


Turn of the Tide

by SilverWing15



Series: I'm Writing Fanfiction About Block Men God Help Me [24]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Dehumanization, Dream got to raise Tommy, Emotional Manipulation, Gen, Ghost Sleepy Bois Inc, Hurt/Comfort, Isolation, Manipulation, Merpeople, Older Sibling Wilbur Soot, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Platonic Cuddling, Protective Older Sibling Wilbur Soot, Self-Harm, Sleepy Bois Inc Angst, Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, Sleepy Bois Inc-centric, now for the TWs, what do you expect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-16 10:09:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 33,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29698962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverWing15/pseuds/SilverWing15
Summary: Tommy’s fins twitch at the mention of Dream’s ancestors. Dream talks about them a lot, how they made their fortune hunting down mer pods, how they were cruel and greedy. Nothing like Dream is. They’ve both overcome their roots he says.Tommy is nothing like the wild mer out in the ocean, who spend their lives scraping by just to survive, who kicked him out of the pod when he was a baby because he was too small. He’s also better than the pit mer, who can’t overcome their wild instincts and know nothing but fighting.He’s different from them, he’s better than them. He’s Dream’s.////OR: Change is like the tide, when it comes, you can only sink or swim. You would think that a mer would be better at keeping afloat.
Relationships: TommyInnit & Clay | Dream, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Wilbut Soot & TommyInnit
Series: I'm Writing Fanfiction About Block Men God Help Me [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2057121
Comments: 323
Kudos: 1386
Collections: Found family to make me feel something





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Alright fam, new AU! There's some bonus art and shit for this one on my tumblr (technobladesbasement) under Mer AU so check that out if you want world building and such. Big thanks to Maddie for idea bouncing and encouragement <3 
> 
> Like all of my fics, this is pre-written and will be posted daily (because if I try to do every other day I Forget lmao)
> 
> This is more of a recovery fic ish situation that I usually write and it was fun to dive into that but really this is a lot of angst. So much angst guys. So Much. There's fluff in here too and of course things end happily because this is me, but just be aware. DEFINITELY read the tags and be safe. 
> 
> TW for this chapter: Dream, child abuse, dehumanization, minor self harm, panic attacks. its a fun one kids.

He’s been good, Dream’s hand is gentle in his hair. Tommy holds back a low croon. He’s been good, he isn’t going to ruin it now. 

Dream is combing through the wet strands, pulling apart any tangles. Tommy likes it better when his hair is short, it doesn’t get caught on things or tangle as much, but Dream says it looks better long, so long it stays. It doesn’t really matter to him too much, if it makes Dream happy he’s alright with long hair. 

Dream’s hand brushes over his shoulders, touching the dusting of red scales that have started growing there. “You’ve grown up so fast,” Dream says quietly, his voice fond. “I still remember the first time I saw you, you were so little. A little runt that nobody wanted. But I knew you would be more than that, didn’t I?” 

Tommy nods, he’s heard this story dozens of times, but he still likes it when Dream tells it. 

“I scooped you right up and you didn’t even cry,” Dream says, “just snuggled right up to me.” He pulls Tommy a little closer, “its amazing how far we’ve come. My ancestors used to hunt mer, and now you live with me.” 

Tommy’s fins twitch at the mention of Dream’s ancestors. Dream talks about them a lot, how they made their fortune hunting down mer pods, how they were cruel and greedy. Nothing like Dream is. They’ve both overcome their roots he says. 

Tommy is nothing like the wild mer out in the ocean, who spend their lives scraping by just to survive, who kicked him out of the pod when he was a baby because he was too small. He’s also better than the pit mer, who can’t overcome their wild instincts and know nothing but fighting. 

He’s different from them, he’s better than them. He’s Dream’s. 

*** 

Dream sends him back into the water after a little bit. He’s got guests coming over, important business people, and he needs to get ready. Tommy does too, if they’re business people. He’ll have to put on a show for them, show them what mer are capable of. 

Dream gives him so much, food, a place to stay, safety from the wild mer and the pit mer, company when he’s lonely, medicine when he’s sick. The least Tommy can do in return is help him win over some greedy business people. 

In the meantime though he sinks beneath the water and swims to his den. He’s got all sorts of gifts from Dream stored there, shiny rocks and pretty shells. 

The reef fish come freely through his den, they know he won’t hurt them. Harold, Harvey, and of course Henry all gather around him as he settles down. Tommy carefully brushes the back of his hand over Henry’s side, being careful of his claws. Outside, he can see Jurose picking at the coral, and beside them, Bruno and Clarencio chase each other. 

Tommy rolls onto his side, spreading his fins to shepherd Henry closer. He already misses the warmth of Dream’s hands, the sound of his voice. The fish are good company for the quiet hours when Dream is gone, but Tommy misses Dream all the same. 

He curls up in his den, tail pulled close, the toys and trinkets gathered around him and watches the door. His tank takes pride of place right in Dream’s office. He has the entire wall to himself, the room would probably be double the size if it weren’t for his tank. But Dream loves him so much that he gave up office space for Tommy. 

The view of the office is distorted a bit by the glass, but Tommy isn’t allowed to the surface unless Dream is there. In case he slips and hurts himself falling. 

Still, its easy enough to identify the people who come through the door a moment later. First, of course, is Dream, Tommy would know him anywhere. Next is Sapnap, he’s nice, he visits Tommy sometimes and gives him toys and treats that Dream wouldn’t usually allow. 

After them come the strangers. 

One of them is a man in a rich blue suit, the color of the ocean in the painting on Dream’s wall The other is a demon. Tommy can tell by the inky black of his skin, the blank white of his eyes, the horns that curl up from his forehead. 

Tommy winces to himself, Dream is going to be grumpy for the rest of the day. He hates talking to non-humans (aside from Tommy, of course). They’re all too ruled by their instincts, the way he’s trained Tommy not to be. 

Dream doesn’t show it though, he is smiling at the demon and his friend, talking to them in his best charming tones. The words are distorted through the glass and the water, but Tommy can figure out the gist of it. 

“--So glad for your interest in my personal projects,” Dream is saying, “its always nice to meet someone as fascinated by mer as I am.” 

The man in the blue suit laughs, “yeah, they’re some neat people.” 

Dream’s smile cools a bit, “they’re interesting, thats for sure.” 

Its going to be a bad night if Tommy isn’t  _ absolutely perfect. _ He takes a deep breath, trying to calm the nerves that always spring up. He’s been doing this all his life, it shouldn’t be a problem. He just has to get it perfect and Dream will be happy, as long as the deal doesn’t fall through. 

Tommy doesn’t bother paying attention to the rest of the conversation. It will only distract him, he just neets to watch Dream, wait for the signal. Finally, Dream makes a seemingly idle gesture with his hand, drawing the men’s attention to the tank just in time for Tommy to slip from his den. It will be more impressive when he’s older, when he’s got his full colors in. 

For now he is still scaled in dull browns and off-whites, and he’s small, but the sight of him still makes the men stare with mouths agape. 

“Come with me,” Dream says, a smug smile in his voice, “and I’ll show you what we’re working with.” 

Tommy follows them along the tank wall as Dream opens the door beside it and shows them up the stairs to the top of the tank. The demon is watching him with wide white eyes, his hand clenched tightly in the grip of the man in the blue suit. There is something...weird, about his expression. It isn’t the awe that most people have, there is no gleam of greed in his eye. 

He looks...sad, almost. 

Tommy will have to work hard to impress him. Dream will be furious if he somehow drives away this deal. 

As they reach the edge of the tank, he dips away with a flourish, flaring his fins to show off his control in the water. Dream calls him to the surface once they’re all on the grated walkway above the tank, splashing his hand in the water idly. 

Tommy surfaces with graceful silence, not a single drop of water splashes. Nothing that might get on the expensive suits of their guests. 

“This,” Dream says, “is only a demonstration of course, our fighting mer are far more aggressive, I wouldn’t expose business associates to them.” he smiles, “unless of course you’d like to see them for yourselves, but most consider Tommy to be a wonderful example of what we’re capable of. Tommy, come here.” Dream holds a hand out over the water. 

Tommy swims closer, keeping his movements smooth and graceful, his body curls in on itself, his fins flattening down. The developing sail on his back lays against his spine as he braces his hands on the catwalk and pulls himself up to Dream’s hand. Warm skin presses against his cheek, Dream’s fingers trail down his throat. He holds back a shudder. 

“You see,” Dream says, looking to the men, Tommy keeps his eyes on Dream. “A mer is easy to control if you train them well. Our fighters are trained  _ very well _ .” he withdraws his hand and Tommy bites down a warble of loss. His skin feels too cold without the warmth of Dream’s hand. 

He needs to keep control of himself. He pulls his body up onto the catwalk, laying at Dream’s feet. He knows the routine, he knows what Dream will say next, what Dream will do next. He takes a deep breath, preparing himself, and then rolls onto his back. 

Every instinct screams at him to roll back over, to dive into the water. He holds the position. He is more than his instincts, he won’t listen to them and make Dream angry. 

“Good,” Dream praises him. 

He kneels at Tommy’s side, “here, let me show you what we’re working with,” he says, gesturing the men down as well. He lifts Tommy’s hand, “Tommy’s young so he’s still developing but look at these claws. I’ve seen mer take out an opponent’s fins with one swipe. Shreds ‘em like tissue paper. The crowds love it.” He spreads one of Tommy’s fins, motioning down the thin webbing between the spines.

Tommy bites back a whimper and focus himself to hold still. Even though he’s seen the same thing that Dream has. He nearly lived it. 

His breath wants to come in short, tight gasps, but he makes himself count out the beats of his heart. Keep himself steady and relaxed, if he panics then the customers will see he’s poorly trained. If the customers see he’s poorly trained, the deal won’t go through, and Dream will have him trained  _ again. _

“Really?” the man in the blue suit says, his voice is tight, just a little bit. “Never seen much appeal in bloodshed myself.” 

The demon’s hand wraps around his wrist tightly, like a warning. Maybe he doesn’t want the deal to fall through either. 

Dream smiles at them, “everyone wants a chance to let loose a little,” he says, “to remind ourselves what we came from. Better to let the mer tear each other apart than us, right?” 

“Right,” the demon says with a laugh. “Is that what happened there?” He points to Tommy’s belly. 

Dream’s smile tightens, “ah, yes,” he says, “that. A mistake on the part of our trainers.” His hand brushes Tommy’s chest, trailing down the beginning of the scar that mars him. Tommy’s breath catches around a whimper. 

He forces it down, he forces himself not to shake. The touch makes his scar ache, the ghost of a pain already healed from. Dream had apologized, Dream had healed him. Dream had stayed with him while he was hurt.“They didn’t realize that he was meant for display, not fighting. He held his own fairly well, but Tommy is a gentler sort than our fighting mers.” 

He brushes his hand through Tommy’s hair and Tommy feels like he can breathe again.

Dream presses against the hinge of his jaw, opening Tommy’s mouth. “His teeth are still growing in too but you can already see how deadly they’ll be. I”ve seen them tear out throats with these things. Real crowd pleaser, don’t do it often though. Gets expensive replacing all those mer.” 

“How do you separate them?” The demon says, his tail is swaying behind him. Curling around the man’s leg and then releasing, only to swing back and curl around his calf again. 

“Mer are slaves to their instincts. When they get that far in the bloodlust its not quite a matter of training,” Dream says, “there are limits to what we can get through their heads. Generally when they’re at that point they have to be separated by force.” 

The demon hums. His tail curls around the man’s leg again, tightening around him until the man shifts. Then it releases him and the demon’s hand brushes the man’s almost like an apology. 

“Well,” the man says, “I think we’ve seen enough. We’ll need to talk to our stockholders--discreetly, of course--but we’ll be in touch.” 

“I’m glad to hear it,” Dream says, “there’s a lot of money in this business, I’m sure your board will be pleased.” 

“I bet they will,” the man says. He holds out his hand for Dream to shake and Dream steps over Tommy’s prone body, guiding them back out of the back. Once they’re on the stairs, Tommy slips back into the water. Again he follows them along the wall of the tank, just like he’s supposed to. 

Its harder to keep from shaking now. His fins want to flare, he wants to hide away in his den. He wants to freeze and not move until all of the humans are gone. He can’t though, he’s been doing so well. The deal is going through, he’s done it. He can’t fuck it up now. 

The demon turns and looks at him while Dream and the man in the suit speak by the door. He’s got that weird expression on his face again. Something sad, something determined. Tommy’s hand presses against the glass, holding himself there while the demon stares at him. He nods at Tommy, like he’s the one making a deal. Tommy doesn’t understand, but he nods back, because he is always supposed to take his cues from the business people. 

The demon and the man in the blue suit leave. 

Tommy curls up in his den and shakes himself apart. He’ll put himself back together for dinner, but for now he curls tightly into his tail and picks at his scales.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream grabs him by the hair, dragging him close. “If you tell them anything,” he snarls, “and I mean fucking anything, I will throw you straight into the fighting pits. Do you understand me Tommy?”   
> No, he really doesn’t but he’s not going to tell Dream that. He nods mutely, frantically.   
> “Good.” Dream says, “good boy.” His hand lets go of Tommy’s hair. “You have to protect me, Tommy, just like I’ve protected you. I have to go now, I’ll come back for you, but in the meantime, you don’t say a fucking word to them, alright?”   
> And then he leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's read and interacted! I'm glad you guys are enjoying the story so far! 
> 
> TWs for this chapter: Dream, Panic attacks, Child abuse, self harm, reference to Tommy witnessing a murder
> 
> But on the bright side no more Dream?

He wakes to Dream pounding on the glass. Its still dark out, but the lights are on in Dream’s office and Tommy can see him point up to the top of the tank sharply. Tommy rushes out of his den, hes  _ never _ seen Dream look like this. Furious and scared all at once. 

Tommy doesn't bother being graceful and careful when he bursts up from the water. Dream is already up there, pacing up and down the catwalk. “You don’t tell them a goddamn thing, do you hear me Tommy?” he demands, but it makes no sense. “Not one fucking word out of your mouth.” 

“Dream?” Tommy asks, his voice high, it wants to turn into a trill of fear, “What’s happening? I don’t--” 

Dream grabs him by the hair, dragging him close. “If you tell them  _ anything _ ,” he snarls, “and I mean fucking  _ anything _ , I will throw you straight into the fighting pits. Do you understand me Tommy?” 

No, he really doesn’t but he’s not going to tell Dream that. He nods mutely, frantically. 

“Good.” Dream says, “good boy.” His hand lets go of Tommy’s hair. “You have to protect me, Tommy, just like I’ve protected you. I have to go now, I’ll come back for you, but in the meantime, you don’t say a fucking word to them, alright?” 

And then he leaves. Back down off the catwalk, through the dark back room, like he was never there in the first place. Tommy stares after him, he doesn’t know what just happened, he doesn’t know what’s happening. 

A tiny uncertain trill makes it out of his throat and he slaps a hand over his mouth. But Dream isn’t here to reprimand him. Dream is gone. 

Dream is gone. 

Tommy slips back beneath the water, staring blankly at the fish as they go about their business, undisturbed. He looks around, like Dream will reappear and explain what is going on, explain who he isn’t supposed to talk to. 

He curls his arms close around himself, wishing that Dream were here to reassure him, give him a hug and run his hand through Tommy’s hair. A tiny, strangled chirp works its way out of his mouth. A call, but Dream doesn’t answer. 

The door to the office bursts open behind him and Tommy stares, frozen as men pile in. They are dressed in strange clothes, not suits, they aren’t business men. They point guns around the room. Tommy holds utterly still. He remembers the guns from the training facility, the way that they’d so easily killed the old mer. 

Another man comes after the armed ones, he’s got a smaller gun, a pistol, but he’s not aiming it anywhere. He’s got it pointed to the ground as he stares at Tommy. 

Tommy bolts into his den, so fast that his tail scrapes on the coral but he doesn’t care. He presses himself into the deepest darkest corner, hoping that the strange humans won’t be able to see him. Won’t be able to shoot him. 

They must be who Dream is running from. They must be the ones he’s not supposed to talk to. He doesn’t understand why they’re here, he doesn’t understand what they want. Only that he’s supposed to protect Dream from them...somehow. 

How he’s meant to protect Dream from men with guns is beyond Tommy. He presses his hands to his mouth and hides himself deep in the shadows. Please let them go away. Please let them leave him be. 

He can hear their voices, muffled through the glass and the water but he can’t make them out over the pounding of his heart. A whine escapes him but he stops it as quickly as he can. He can’t make those sounds, even if he wasn’t hiding, they’re mer sounds. He’s not allowed to make them. His chest heaves with the force of his breaths, too sharp and fast. 

He doesn’t know how long he cowers in the dark of his den, how long he shakes apart, picking at his scales, unable to calm himself down enough to figure out what to do. Dream is gone, he said that if Tommy talked he’d throw him in the fighting pits, there are strange men in the office. Men who aren’t supposed to be there. Men with guns who are chasing Dream. He doesn’t know what to do. 

Eventually he realizes that the lights are out in the office. There are no more voices. Slowly, carefully, he uncurls his tail and lifts his head out of the shelter of his arms. The office is still and quiet. He looks out of his den, the lights are off, the men are gone. 

His eyes search the shadows, but there is no sign of them. The door is closed. Its like it was all a terrible dream. 

Was it? 

Was it all just a dream? Was none of it real? 

He crawls half out of his den, his fins are flared, ready to carry him through the water faster than any human could match. His ears twitch and swivel, there’s no one there. The office is still empty, the only sound is the hum of the filter. 

The reef fish go about their business. 

A hesitant click rises out of his throat. It bounces off of the tank walls the way it always has. Nothing has changed. 

It was a dream. 

It was just a dream. 

The water splashes above him and he flinches halfway back into his den. But no, Dream is calling for him, he has to go. Maybe he heard Tommy calling earlier. Tommy winces at the thought, he’ll be in trouble for that. But at least it will prove that it wasn’t real. 

He pushes himself up, ignoring the instinct to remain deep in the water, away from the danger of the surface. He is more than his instincts and Dream is calling him, he has to answer. His head surfaces. 

Its not Dream on the catwalk. Its the man from earlier, the one with the pistol. 

Tommy freezes utterly, staring at him. 

“Hey,” the man says, soft and quiet. 

Tommy bolts back to his den. 

He presses himself deep into the shadows, leaning against the wall so hard that he can feel it bruising his skin but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t move, he doesn’t breathe. It was real.  _ It was real _ . It was all real and Dream is gone and the strangers are here with their guns and he  _ can’t _ talk to them. He can’t talk to them or Dream will throw him in the pits. 

He has to protect Dream. He has to keep quiet and be good. He can’t talk to them. He can’t talk to them. He can’t go  _ near _ them. Dream will come back, he said he’d come back. He’ll get other people to help him and he’ll come back and Tommy will have been good. He won’t have said anything to the strangers with their guns. 

Water splashes above him again and he nearly goes back to the surface automatically. He can’t just  _ ignore _ that, not after how Dream taught him, but he’s not going back to the stranger. Tommy curls tighter. Another little chirp fights its way past his lips. He muffles it behind his hands, another wants to follow but he drags it back down to the depths of himself. 

“Hey,” the stranger says, it comes muffled and distorted through the water, “Tommy, right? Sorry for scaring you.” 

How does the stranger know his name? Tommy curls tighter, shutting his eyes as if that will hide him better. His hands cover his ears, but he can’t block out the stranger’s voice. 

“My name is Eret,” they say, “I’m here to help you.” 

Tommy doesn’t believe it for a  _ second _ . He curls tighter on himself, strangling down another chirp. It comes out of his mouth as a muffled little noise, but it comes out all the same. A whine wants to follow it. 

Everything is too much. He can’t do anything, he has to hide and keep quiet and not talk and not go to the surface even though the water splashed and that means he  _ has _ to go to the surface. 

He’s not even shaking anymore, he’s beyond it, he’s just sitting curled tightly in his den, frozen. He can’t move, he can only stare at the rock in front of him and listen. “You don’t have to come out,” Eret says, “not until you feel like it. I’m not going to hurt you, you just stay there until you feel safe, alright?” 

Tommy stays quiet. He doesn’t think he’ll ever leave his den, he’ll never be safe, not until Dream comes back. 

Minutes slip by, each one feels like an eternity. 

The office door opens and his heart freezes in his chest. Someone walks through the room, to the door beside his tank. He can hear the rattle of the catwalk stairs. The murmur of voices, that he can just barely make out. 

“...almost done here,” a woman’s voice says, “any progress?” 

A sigh, “no.” 

“I’ll call Will, see how far out he is.” 

“Please,” Eret says, the catwalk stairs rattle again, and the woman passes in front of the tank again. 

Tommy’s fingers pick at his scales. Dream doesn’t like it when he does this, but he can’t stop himself. His claw slips under a scale and he gasps with pain. He freezes, but the humans don’t seem to have noticed. Blood scents the water. 

He goes back to picking at his scales. 

Time slips by, the scale he’s picking at comes off. He moves on to the next one. 

One by one, they float up to the top of his den, some go out, but he knows the filter will take care of them. Blood is thick in the water of his den, but he can’t stop. Its hypnotizing, in a way. Even with the pain, there is something soothing about the repetitive motion, he just has to work his nail under the edge all the way around. Then pull up and it pops off, leaving tender skin behind. 

“Tommy,” Eret says, “are you hungry? We can bring you something to eat.” 

Tommy ignores them, working his way down his tail. The scales on his arms are long gone, usually he only picks at his arms, not his tail. It makes Dream upset but he still does it. Besides, this will make Dream less upset than talking to Eret would. 

“Tommy?” Eret asks. 

Tommy works his claw under another scale. 

The door opens again, Tommy watches out of the corner of his eye as a man walks in. He’s dressed differently from the rest of the strangers, insead of a dark blue vest, he’s in a brown jacket. He stops in front of the tank and his eyes lock unerringly onto Tommy’s den. 

Tommy’s claw freezes halfway through prying up another scale. He doesn’t think the human can see him, but he shifts further back into the shadows all the same. Another little chirp leaves his mouth, small and strangled. 

The catwalk stairs rattle and Eret comes out of the back and into Dream’s office. “Will,” he says, “gods am I glad to see you.” 

“Eret,” the newcomer--Will?--says, “they told me about the situation, you said he came up once?” 

Eret nods, “as soon as he saw me he booked it down to that little pile there,” Tommy flinches as their hand points at the entrance of his den. “Haven’t heard a peep since. I tried offering him something to eat but nothing.” 

Will bites at his lip, “that’s not too far out of the ordinary, I’ll see if I can’t calm him down a bit.” 

Eret nods, “I’ll give you the room then. Good luck.” 

The door shuts behind him. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you know why I’m here?” Wilbur asks quietly.  
> Tommy stops playing with the keys.  
> “My friends were here yesterday,” Wilbur says, “Skeppy and Bad? They said that Dream wasn’t treating you right, so I’m here to take you somewhere safe, would you like that?”  
> It doesn’t make sense. He is treated right, he is safe, here with Dream. When Dream is here. But Wilbur and Eret have driven him away. Wilbur is peering into his den again. Tommy presses himself against the back wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello hello all! Welcome to another chapter of mer AU! Thank you everyone for the wonderful comments and kudos and such, I'm so glad you guys are enjoying the story!  
> This one is less plot-heavy than my recent stuff, more like Responsible Forever if you're one of the people who read that. Only that one was Fluff and this is a n g s t with hurt/comfort, naturally. I actually got up this morning and started to do some edits of this but then it was turning into like, a whole rewrite so I thought it over and decided that I like it the way it is.  
> I also did some art this morning! So now you guys can see mer!Tommy at the bottom of the chapter. And last night I did a prequel to this that will be posted after Tide is finished. I'll also probably be uploading the world building and such in a separate fic because I'm really happy with how it came out.  
> Anyway, that's about enough notes from me, on to the trigger warnings for this chapter: 
> 
> TWs: Disassociation, panic attacks, self harm

“Hi,” the man in the brown coat says, he sits where the tank meets the wall, his knee is level with Tommy’s head. “My name is Wilbur, they say yours is Tommy.” 

Why can’t they just leave? Why can’t they just leave him alone? Tommy shifts, curling his tail so he can reach another row of scales. 

From the corner of his eye he sees Wilbur pull his phone out of his coat pocket. He’s planning to be here awhile then. Great, that’s great, that’s fine. Tommy can stay in his den for however long it takes. His claw works under the edge of another scale. His tail is raw and tender, aching where his position strains on the delicate skin, but he can’t make himself stop. 

Then there’s a sound, a deep rumble that he swears rattles his chest, shaking loose a chirp, and then another. He covers his mouth, trying to hold them back, but his instincts want him to call out to the sound. To let the other mer find him, they will keep him safe, they will protect him. 

Tommy is halfway out of his den before he catches himself. He has to be better than his instincts, he isn’t a dumb animal. Dream has taught him better than this. There is no other mer, there is only Wilbur and his phone. 

Wilbur, who is holding his phone and staring at Tommy. Tommy freezes, and then ducks back into the depths of the shadows. 

“Hey,” Wilbur says, “hey, hey, you’re alright. Come back out. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m sorry for tricking you, I just wanted to talk.” 

Tommy isn’t going to talk to him. He won’t. He won’t or Dream will send him straight to the fighting pits when he gets back. He’s coming back, he said he was. His claws find their way to his tail, pulling up more and more scales. There’s a great patch on his side about the size of his hand, fingers fully spread that is bare by now, but he can’t stop. 

“Hey,” Wilbur says, his voice suddenly tense. Tommy rips up another scale. “Tommy, are you--are you pulling your scales? Tommy you don’t need to do that, could you stop for me?” 

Tommy can’t stop, and he isn’t  _ going  _ to stop, especially not for Wilbur. 

“Tommy, you shouldn’t hurt yourself okay?” 

Tommy rips out another scale and lets it float out of his den. 

“Tommy I know you’re very scared and stressed, but why don’t I give you something else to do with your hands, okay?” There is a tension in his voice, but not like when Dream caught him pulling scales. He doesn’t sound angry, he sounds sad, and scared. 

Another scale, more blood in the water. 

Dream usually wraps his claws when he does this too much. But Dream isn’t here now. Another scale. 

Wilbur has his phone to his ear, he’s talking to someone. Another scale, another. His fingers ache from the motion, his flank is pulsing with pain. He still doesn’t stop. 

There are more voices outside, the catwalk stair rattles over and over. The hum of the filter stutters to a stop, and then there is the less familiar sound of the pump. Its only turned on when the tank is drained. They’re draining the tank. 

Another one of the stupid,  _ stupid _ chirps crawls its way out of his mouth. 

He curls further back into his den, as if that will hide him from the sinking water level. Despite the size of the tank, it doesn’t take long to drain. Dream paid for the very best for him, but now Tommy wishes that he hadn’t. 

He picks at his scales as the water drains lower and lower. The reef fish dart around, frightened of the change, but Tommy only huddles in his den. They’re going to come for him, he’s sure of it. That’s why they’re lowering the water. 

They don’t want him to get away, they don’t want him to fight. They’re going to drain the water and then they’ll drag him out of his den and...and do something to him. They’re hunting him, there is only one way that ends for the prey. 

He picks off scale after scale, trying desperately to come up with a plan. He could try hiding in one of the corners, but a glance outside of his den confirms that the humans are watching. They’ll see him. 

They’re trying to talk to him, he thinks, but he can’t make sense of their words over the pounding of his heart, the rush of the water in his hears, the chug of the pump. Its all too loud, too much. His claws scratch his skin as he picks at another scale. Blood wells up, clouding the water of his den. The smell of it is thick in the water, choking him. 

Finally, the top of the water falls below the mouth of his den, and then he is sitting in only a few feet of it. The pump shuts off, the sudden quiet is deafening in his ears. 

“You sure? Someone asks. 

“I’ll be alright,” Wilbur replies, “I know what I’m doing, just keep everyone back and quiet.” The catwalk steps rattle. Tommy’s breath hitches. His throat works but he won’t let another chirp out. He  _ won’t _ . 

The water splashes as someone lands in it. Wilbur, he’s in the tank. He’s coming. 

The chirp wrestles its way out of him, high and pathetic and lonely. Only this time something answers it, answers him. Its not the same rumble as last time, too high, but its something close to it. Something that his instincts say means safety and protection, but Tommy knows better. 

He curls back in the den, he’s shaking again, so much that he scratches himself with his claws again when he tries to pull off another scale. 

“Hey there Tommy,” Wilbur says, “sorry we had to drain your water.” 

He isn’t, he’s lying. He’s Dream’s enemy and Tommy isn’t supposed to talk to him, if he does Dream will throw him back in the fighting pits. Dream is going to come back, he promised. Wilbur is a stranger and he’s lying and Tommy can’t trust him, can’t talk to him. 

A shadow falls over him. Wilbur is at the mouth of the den, staying a bit distant, but he’s looking in at Tommy. “That looks like it hurts,” he says softly, “I could put something on it for you if you wanted.” 

Tommy curls his tailfin around his flank, hiding the wounds, as pointless as it is. Wilbur crouches and makes the not-quite-right rumbling sound again. Tommy bites back the instinctive answer, the instinctive trust. He can’t trust Wilbur. 

He doesn’t know what to do. 

He doesn’t know what he  _ can _ do. 

His fingers pick at his scales. 

“Please don’t do that,” Wilbur says softly, “I don’t want you to hurt yourself more. Here,” Wilbur reaches into his pocket and pulls out something that rattles softly as he moves. “Why don’t you use this instead for me.” 

He leans closer, too close, he’s too close. Tommy’s breath hitches, he bites his tongue to keep a long string of chirps behind his teeth. He presses against the back of the den as Wilbur sets the thing on the ground just inside, and then he pulls away. 

Tommy stares. There’s a ring of keys in the water, glittering in the lights. 

“Go ahead,” Wilbur says, “I don’t need them right now anyway.” He smiles and Tommy trills. 

He bites off the sound immediately, shame welling up in him. He’s supposed to be  _ better _ than this. 

Wilbur makes the rumble at him again, it sounds too high, not like the version he’d played earlier, but it makes Tommy’s muscles want to relax all the same. His hand snatches out and takes the keys, flicking them over the ring, letting them clatter together to block out the noise. 

“There you go,” Wilbur says, “see? That’s much better.” 

Tommy curls up in the back of his den, gently twisting the key ring so the keys clatter against each other. 

Wilbur sits in silence for a long while, so long that Tommy almost forgets he’s there. Almost. 

“Do you know why I’m here?” Wilbur asks quietly. 

Tommy stops playing with the keys. 

“My friends were here yesterday,” Wilbur says, “Skeppy and Bad? They said that Dream wasn’t treating you right, so I’m here to take you somewhere safe, would you like that?” 

It doesn’t make sense. He  _ is _ treated right, he  _ is _ safe, here with Dream. When Dream is here. But Wilbur and Eret have driven him away. Wilbur is peering into his den again. Tommy presses himself against the back wall. 

“My dad and I work at a very nice place,” Wilbur says, “for mer like you. There are others around your age, I’m sure they’d love to meet you if you wanted to see them.” 

His breath comes faster at the thought. Another fighting pit? It must be, why else would there be other mer? The high frightened chirps escape his lips and he drops the keys. He doesn’t want them, not if the price is this. 

If he talks he will get sent to the fighting pits, if he doesn’t, Wilbur will bring him to his pits. There is no safety, there is no right answer. He doesn’t know what to do, he doesn’t know how to be good. 

“Hey, hey, hey, alright, Tommy, Tommy you don’t have to see them if you don’t want to. Its alright, you’re alright Tommy.” 

He can’t stop the chirps from flying past his lips, his hands curl, seeking something to hold onto. 

Wilbur makes the safety-rumble again, even though its a lie, it makes his heartbeat slow. Tommy buries his head in his arms, curling his tail around himself. 

“Gods,” Wilbur mutters, almost too low for Tommy to hear, “what did he do to you kid?” 

He sighs, and Tommy hears his head thunk back against the glass wall of the tank. “Alright,” he says, “we’ll figure this out. I know you’re scared, I’m sorry that I scared you. You don’t have to see other mer if you don’t want to. I won’t let anything bad happen to you, okay?” 

That doesn’t make sense. That is an impossible thing to promise, an impossible thing to say. Because Dream never promised anything like that. Dream was the nicest person, the best person. He was the only one who took care of Tommy, he was the only one who could keep him safe, and he never promised to not let anything bad happen. 

An uncertain warble rises out of his chest before he can stop it. Wilbur replies with the same rumble, Tommy doesn’t even know how he’s making that noise. He didn’t think humans could make sounds like that. 

Hesitantly he fiddles with the keys again. He doesn’t know what to do, but they at least keep his hands occupied. His side hurts, he can feel his blood drying against his skin and scales. 

“Are you hungry?” Wilbur asks, “its about time for breakfast, I can go get us something if you want.” 

Tommy isn’t hungry, but he wants Wilbur to leave. 

Only he doesn’t. 

His gut swoops at the thought of Wilbur leaving, of being alone in the drained tank. Even though Wilbur is a stranger and an enemy. 

He curls his fingers around one of they keys, the dull metal bites into his palm but its not even close to breaking the skin. A warbly trill escapes him. 

Dream has only been gone for a few hours and already he’s falling back on his wild instincts, like all of Dream’s hard work and education didn’t matter. He whines, he doesn’t know what to  _ do _ , everything is too complicated, everything he does is wrong and its going to get him punished. 

He wants so badly to be  _ good _ but there is no good in this situation. 

Wilbur makes the rumbling noise again, Tommy wishes he’d stop. 

Tommy wishes he’d never stop. 

“Easy,” Wilbur says, “its alright, I can stay right here. I won’t leave, I won’t let anything happen. Nobody will hurt you Tommy, I know it might be hard to believe but I swear to you on the sky itself I won’t let anyone or anything hurt you.” There is an aching sort of desperation in his voice, like he’s the one backed up against the wall with only impossible choices. 

“Its okay if you’re not hungry yet,” Wilbur says, “its been a stressful morning. We can wait a bit.” Tommy peers out of the den and finds Wilbur sitting in the water, its just over his waist, soaking his pants and the bottom of his coat. He doesn’t seem bothered though. 

Almost idly, he hums to himself, Tommy doesn’t recognize the tune, but the sound is hypnotic. Dream didn’t like to listen to music, he said noise distracted him, but Tommy has always loved it. The way it vibrates through the water, he could feel it on his skin, through his scales. Even just the sound in the air touches something within him that he can’t name. 

He wants to raise his voice and join, wants to let the sound rise and fall and carry through wind and waves. He wants to open his heart to the world and have the world echo it back, wild and free. 

Wilbur’s eyes are half closed, staring into space like he’s prepared to sit like that and fall asleep. Tommy doesn’t even realize that he’s crept halfway out of his den until Wilbur’s eyes fall on him and the humming stutters. 

He freezes, but Wilbur looks away and keeps on humming. Tommy hovers at the entrance of his den until the song winds to its close. 

“You like music?” Wilbur asks into the fragile silence, “I do too. I learned how to play guitar from my dad when I was barely big enough to hold the thing.” He smiles, distant and fond, “I could teach you if you wanted, its not too hard to learn.” 

Tommy doesn’t really know what a guitar is, but if it can make music he wants to learn. Wilbut is making the low rumble in his chest again, it makes Tommy want to slip out of his den and curl up at Wilbur’s side. Let himself fall asleep there, safe under his protection. 

Would he really be safe though? 

“Do you have any questions for me?” Wilbur asks gently, “you can if you want. I promise I won’t get mad, no matter what it is. Nobody will hurt you.” 

He keeps  _ saying that _ . Like its that simple. It isn’t, it can’t be. 

But Tommy so desperately wishes that it were. 

He should keep quiet, he can’t talk to Wilbur or Dream will put him in the pits. Dream is going to come back, and when he does he’ll be furious. But Wilbur promised that he wouldn’t let anyone hurt him, like it was that simple.

It is a lie. There is no other option. 

“W--” he cuts himself off, hunching his shoulders up, a warble of apology slips out of his mouth. 

Wilbur rumbles again. 

“Where’s Dream?” Tommy asks, his voice a barely there hoarse whisper. “When is he coming back?”

“He’s in custody,” Wilbur says, after a long moment. “Eret’s men found him trying to leave the country and arrested him.He isn’t coming back.”

Tommy doesn’t know what that means, only that Dream was found by Eret. Who is his enemy. Dream isn’t coming back. Is Dream dead?

He doesn’t understand what it all means, but Wilbur is already making the rumble again and Tommy is so  _ tired _ . He is tired of being scared, tired of worrying. He just wants to curl up in Dream’s lap and have him pet his hair like he did when Tommy was good. 

He just wants to be good.

But Dream is gone, and now there is only Wilbur and Eret. He is theirs now, he must be. He’s already been so bad. 

A helpless sort of whimper escapes him and his whole chest feels like it collapses in the wake of it. He drags himself out of his den and rolls onto his back, head tilted back to bare his throat. He squeezes his eyes shut and trembles waiting for the first blow to land, or the first angry words to reach his ears. 

Instead Wilbur pushes his shoulder until he rolls over, “Oh, Tommy. Its okay,” he says, “Its alright You don’t need to do that. I’ve got you. I’ve got you Tommy, everything will be alright.” 

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We’re gonna take good care of you, Tommy,” Wilbur promises, “you’ll see. You’re gonna be just fine. I’ll make sure of it. No one will hurt you, I promise.” 
> 
> It is an impossible thing to promise. Even with the drug working through his system, Tommy knows that it is. Nobody can just promise that. Just like no one can promise that he won’t be hurt. Its like promising that he won’t have to eat things he doesn’t like, it is simply a fact of life. 
> 
> He does wrong and he is hurt for it, what other option could there be?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TWs: Pretty much same as last time

Wilbur asks him to sit up and Tommy obeys. He hunches in on himself, propped up on his hands, keeping his injured side covered by his tail fin. The rest of his fins are held down and submissive, his head hangs low. 

He just has to be good, he just has to show Wilbur that he can be good. 

The water sloshes gently as Wilbur shifts, moving so he’s crouched instead of sitting. “Tommy, I’m going to go talk to my friends for a second, alright? Would you be okay with me leaving or do you want me to stay?” 

Tommy doesn’t know, he doesn’t even know why he’s being asked. He doesn’t want to give an answer in case its the wrong one, but he also can’t just stay silent. One shoulder jerks in a tiny shrug. 

He flicks a glance up to Wilbur’s face, he looks conflicted, but not angry. 

“Alright, how about I have my dad come in here to talk to me alright? We’ll be in the room.” 

Tommy nods. Of course he does, he isn’t going to say  _ no _ to Wilbur. He knows better than that, but it soothes a deep part of him to know that Wilbur isn’t leaving entirely. He’ll still be right there. 

Tommy is terrified of what Wilbur will do to him, but he also can’t bear to be parted from him. It makes a warbling whine want to rise out of his throat but he strangles it down. He’s already been so bad, he can’t keep making it worse. 

“Okay, I’m going to get up now. I’m not leaving the room, I’ll be right over by the catwalk, okay?” 

Tommy nods again. 

Wilbur stands, he’s so tall, he looms over Tommy, like Dream when he’s standing with customers. Tommy bends his elbows, lowering himself, his chin tilts, baring his throat, but Wilbur doesn’t linger over him. He walks through the water, around the reef and out of Tommy’s sight. His chest aches, Wilbur is gone, Tommy is alone. 

He can hear the murmur of voices. The reef fish gather around him, Henry picks at the blood on his scales. He fiddles with the keys, listening to the conversation. 

“...effects of long term stress, probably. Mer aren’t meant for this kind of environment. He’s gonna be a hard one” Someone is saying, “we’ll get him sorted though Will. You’re doing good.” 

Wilbur sighs, “I hope so.”

“How bad’s the injury?” 

“We’ve seen worse, but this is a long-term habit I think. His arms are picked clean, doesn’t look like that got infected but he scratched himself with his claws I think. It’ll have to be looked at.” 

“Will he let someone do that?” 

“Probably,” Wilbur says bitterly, Tommy wilts at the tone, “but I think he’d let anyone do just about anything to him as it is.” 

The other person is quiet, then, “do you think he’s getting too stressed?” 

“I think he’s  _ been _ too stressed. For a long fucking time,” Wilbur snaps, then he sighs, “but yeah, I think doing too much with him now will push him over the edge. We can’t let him stay here though. He needs to get out of this fucking  _ fish tank _ .” 

“We brought the full kit,” the other man says, “we could knock him out. I don’t like doing it without consent any more than you do but I’m not sure he’s in a state to  _ give _ consent. This is,” he sighs, like he’s got a great weight on his shoulders, “this is one of the worst cases we’ve ever handled, Will. This is probably going to go up there as one of the worse we ever  _ will _ handle. This isn’t just a kid who got separated from their pod. This is years of systematic abuse.”

Until he trusts us, this is going to be about gaining what trust we can get and minimizing his distress. He’s already hurting himself, we don’t want that to escalate.” 

Tommy almost thinks that they’re talking about someone else, the words don’t make sense when he applies them to himself. He doesn’t even know what ‘abuse’ is, he doesn't know why they think he’s a bad case. He is trying to be  _ good _ . 

But they must be talking about him, there’s no one else they could be. The keys slip out of his hands, he itches for the grounding sting of a pulled scale. The simple rhythm of slipping his claw under the edge and carefully prying it up. 

But Wilbur doesn’t like it when he does that, and he’s already been bad. He picks up the keys again, holds them tightly in his fist. 

Wilbur is walking back, he realizes abruptly. He whines anxiously, then bites back the sound. Why can’t he just be  _ good? _ He rolls onto his back as Wilbur rounds the corner of the reef, he opens his mouth to apologize, but all that comes out is another one of the  _ stupid chirps _ . He  _ hates _ that sound, hates that he can’t stop making it. He’s trying so  _ hard _ . 

“Tommy,” Wilbur says “hey, what’s wrong? Come on we talked about this, you don’t need to do that. I’m not going to hurt you.” 

They did. Wilbur told him not to do this and he did it anyway. Tommy rolls onto his side, curling in on himself, waiting for his punishment. He can’t even  _ apologize right _ . His breath is coming in desperate gasps and every time another chirp comes out of his mouth. 

Wilbur makes the rumbling noise, it shouldn’t be comforting, he doesn’t know why it is, but it makes it easier to breathe. “Okay, Tommy,” Wilbur says quietly, almost resigned, “I’m gonna give you a little shot, alright? It’ll only pinch, its not going to hurt you, its just going to help you calm down. I’m sorry. I’m sorry buddy.” Wilbur’s warm hand rests on his arm, so light its almost like one of the fish hovering beside him in the water. 

Tommy whines and presses up into it, chasing the contact. Wilbur pulls away for a split second and Tommy cries out like he’s been injured. And then Wilbur’s hand is back, both of them pulling him up by the shoulders and bringing him to Wilbur’s chest. “Alright, alright, I’ve got you.” The water sloshes as Wilbur sits down in it, Tommy’s head tucked under his chin. 

Wilbur’s hand strokes up and down his spine, right along the sail on his back. He snuggles closer and Will rumbles at him again and it vibrates through his whole body. He barely even notices the pinch of pain from the needle. 

“We’re gonna take good care of you, Tommy,” Wilbur promises, “you’ll see. You’re gonna be just fine. I’ll make sure of it. No one will hurt you, I promise.” 

It is an impossible thing to promise. Even with the drug working through his system, Tommy knows that it is. Nobody can just  _ promise _ that. Just like no one can promise that he won’t be hurt. Its like promising that he won’t have to eat things he doesn’t like, it is simply a fact of life. 

He does wrong and he is hurt for it, what other option could there be?

He drifts off to the sound of Wilbur’s heartbeat.

*** 

Phil finds him in the nursery. He’s buried under a pile of young mer, Tubbo and Ranboo are curled under Wilbur’s arms, purring happily. Some of the younger ones, the  _ baby _ babies have draped themselves over his lap, tiny claws digging into Will’s clothes. 

Techno is not a young mer, but he’s letting Will lean his back against his side. He’s pretending that this is some grand favor that he’s granting but Phil knows that he loves it too. 

“Comfortable?” he asks quietly. He gets a round of grumbles from the mer, Techno actually bothers to open one eye enough to give him a glare. 

“Yes,” Will says without opening his eyes. 

“Really?” 

“No, Techno’s got a bony ass spine and Lilly is digging her elbow into my kidney,” Will admits. 

Phil laughs quietly, and sits down. The minute he’s within range Daisy crawls out of Will’s lap and into his, trilling happily to him. She braces herself on his chest and presses her cheek to his for a moment, and then reaches for his wings with open hands. He mimics the trill back to her and lets her pet his feathers. 

With a grumble, Ranboo detaches himself from Will to stretch out between the two of them, his head bumping Phil’s knee and his tail flopping over Techno’s side. Phil brushes a gentle hand through his hair, earning a quiet purr. 

Its hard to believe that Tommy is only a little younger than Ranboo and Tubbo. Maybe fourteen, fifteen on the outside. Its hard to tell with the conditions he was raised in. Its hard to imagine someone ever treating a kid like that, no matter what they look like, no matter where they came from. 

He presses a kiss to Daisy’s forehead and nudges her out of his lap. “I need to talk to Will real quick, alright? I’ll come back in a little bit.” 

Will opens his eyes and forces a smile onto his face, “be right back.” He disentangles himself from the mer pile to the tune of grumbles and complaining trills but both he and Phil slip out of the room without too much fuss. “Tommy?” Will asks. 

“Still asleep, Niki’s looking him over. She’s got Jack and Quackity with her.” It feels almost ridiculous to need two people to watch over one mer child. Especially one in the condition that Tommy is in, but as the saying goes, even a worm will turn. 

Tommy was in a stressful situation, surrounded by strangers and clearly expecting violence. Thus far he had been cowed and submissive, but they’ve backed him well into the corner now. If he decides to defend himself from them, he would be hard to stop. He’s young, but he’s already got the start of deadly fangs and claws. 

“Eret sent over the case files, Sam’s been reading through them all morning, we’re working up a treatment plan. They want you to be his primary caretaker.” 

Will nods, he has to have been expecting it. He has at least a tiny modicum of--if not trust, at least familiarity--with Tommy. They’re working from less than ground up, they don’t even have  _ foundations _ with this kid. 

He isn’t like Lilly and Daisy, who were simply lost in a storm. Or even like Ranboo, who was injured in an accident and lost his pod. 

“What about Puffy?” Will asks. Generally the newly brought in mer-children are most comfortable with Puffy, a grown mermaid. She might have been raised by humans, but she is still a  _ mer _ and that is what most of the children are comfortable with at first. 

Phil shakes his head though. “One of Dream’s associates was willing to come forward and talk, he told us all he knew about Tommy’s--” he hesitates to even use the word“--’upbringing’. He was taken young and the only other time he’s been around mer was when he got that scar.” Phil gestures down his chest, tracing the ghost of the terrible wound down Tommy’s own. “File should be on your tablet.”

Will scrubs a hand over his face, “every time I think it couldn’t possibly get worse.” 

Phil wraps a wing around his shoulders, pulling his son close, “I know mate. Do you feel up for this?” 

“I’m not going to back out,” Will says firmly, “if I can help him I will.” 

“I know,” Phil soothes, “but don’t forget that you have all of us to help you. This is going to be  _ hard, _ Will, don’t think for a second that you have to do it on your own.” 

Will smiles, “I know, Dad.” 

He lingers in Phil’s arms for a moment, head resting on Phil’s shoulder, and then he takes a deep breath and stands tall. “We got all of the stuff from his--” Will’s lip curls in disgust “--tank, right? The fish, the toys, the coral?” 

Phil nods, “we’re fitting as much of it as we can into one of the recovery rooms.” 

The recovery rooms are probably a bit small for all of the fish and coral they’re trying to fit in there--they’re really only made to be occupied for a little while before the mer is sent out to the pod--but they’re not going to leave any of it out. 

Mer are social creatures, and in the absence of other mer--of other  _ people _ , aside from Dream--Tommy has likely attached himself to the fish and possibly even the objects that were his sole company. 

One more tragedy in a long line of tragedies about Tommy’s life. They cannot afford to stop and weep for them all. As terrible as the thought is of a child having nothing but animals and toys to consider family, they cannot get caught up in it. They can only slowly wean Tommy away from them, introduce him to a real family as gently as they can. 

It’s going to be a long, rough road, but Phil has nothing but faith in his son, in the staff. Together, they’ll figure Tommy out, show him what life can be, what life is supposed to be. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilbur is sitting on a chair in front of him. He’s not laying on the floor but on some kind of couch, like the one Dream had in his office, but lower to the floor.   
> “Hey, its me, Will. You remember me? You’re in a recovery room at the place I was telling you about. You’re safe here.” Wilbur says, “ how are you feeling?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lil fluff for you guys at the beginning and then we're back to the angst. One of these days you guys are just going to be terrified of me writing fluff chapters. I always make things worse right after them. Enjoy

He wakes up and he’s freezing, he shivers under a...blanket? He’s got a blanket on. Its soft and fluffy but its not warm enough. He pulls it more tightly around himself and warbles at it. Why is it so  _ cold? _

“Hey Tommy, you cold?” someone asks, he doesn’t recognize the voice but he doesn’t really care. He nods. Something drapes over him, heavy and warm and he latches onto it with a satisfied trill. 

His head feels light and heavy at the same time, he can’t manage to hold it up but it feels like its going to float away at the same time. He’s somewhere white, everything is white around him. Like the pictures of snow he’s seen. He’s never seen snow in person before. He wiggles a hand out of the blankets and tries to feel it. It just feels like paper though, it crinkles underneath him. 

“Is he okay?” the voice asks. 

“Yeah,” someone else says, “its just the sedative.” Who is that? It sounds like a woman, he doesn’t get to see many women, all of the business people Dream talks to are men, usually. He wonders if she’s got those clicky shoes. 

He twists over himself, his face ends up smooshed into the thing he’s laying on. He can’t see the lady. He whines. 

“Come on,” she says, “you’ve almost got it."

Warm hands gently rest on his shoulders and help him the rest of the way over. He can see her now, she’s got gold hair with pink bits in it, its pretty. He trills admiration, trying to coordinate his hands enough to reach for her. 

She catches his hand and lowers it back down, “let’s not do that, okay? You’ve not got enough control for me to want your claws near my face.” She smiling though. She’s so  _ nice _ . He smiles back. 

“How long is he going to be like this?” the man asks, he enters Tommy’s view. Wilbur. That’s his name. 

“Depends,” the woman replies. “He’s been out for awhile so it might wear off pretty quick, but with how skinny he is it might be affecting him more than usual.” 

There’s something on his hand. He wiggles his wrist, trying to get it off, but its stuck. 

“That’s your IV sweetie,” the woman says, “let’s leave that in.” 

He pouts, but leaves it be. 

“Thank you,” the woman says smiling at him and brushing her hand on his forehead. He trills, pressing up into the contact. Her smile turns a little sad, he doesn’t really know why. “You just need to get some fluids, that’s all, I’ll take it out for you in a bit.” 

He nods even though he doen’t really get what she’s saying and just appreciates the feeling of her hand in his hair. “I’ve sent you my notes, Will,” she says, “treatment and meal plans should be coming soon.” 

“How bad was he?” Wilbur asks quietly. 

The woman sighs. 

“Niki?” 

“We’ve seen worse. You know how bad the twins were when they came in. Its not his physical well-being that I’m worried about.” 

Wilbur leans his head against her shoulder, “yeah, me too.” 

The woman runs her fingers through Wilbur’s hair, and he leans into it with a sigh. Tommy warbles jealously. 

She laughs, “oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize sharing wasn’t allowed.” 

“Niki has two hands, Tommy,” Wilbur says. 

Tommy grumbles tilting his head to trap Niki’s hand between his head and the...floor? Its soft and squishy, whatever it is. 

Its easy to fall back asleep that way. 

***

He wakes up and he doesn’t know where he is. There is warm air moving around him, not the reassuring hum of the filter and the silky brush of the water. There is no office, there is a room with a springy floor and low furniture. 

Wilbur is sitting on a chair in front of him. He’s not laying on the floor but on some kind of couch, like the one Dream had in his office, but lower to the floor. 

“Hey, its me, Will. You remember me? You’re in a recovery room at the place I was telling you about. You’re safe here.” Wilbur says, “ how are you feeling?” 

He stares, his chest starting to heave with the force of his breaths. Dream is gone, and now he belongs to Wilbur. Wilbur is asking him a question, he has to answer. Like a person. 

“I-” his voice is a hoarse croak, “fine.” 

Wilbur doesn’t look like he believes him. “That’s good,” he says instead of calling Tommy out on his lie. Maybe its okay then. “Niki gave you some painkillers for your side, if it starts hurting again you can tell me and I’ll get you some more.” 

Tommy’s eyes flick down to his flank, there’s something layered over the scaleless patch he’d created. It looks like some kind of putty, like the sealant that was at the edges of his tank. Gingerly he touches it, then flicks his eyes back to Wilbur. 

“Its waterproof...bandages, for lack of a better word,” Wilbur says, “it’ll help keep it from getting infected. It’ll need to be changed every couple of days, but you’ll be fine to go into the water with it.” He motions to the other side of the room and Tommy sees that there is a ramp there, leading down into a tank. Only the walls of the tank aren’t glass, they’re the same as the rest of the room. 

“We brought all of your fish with us,” Wilbur says, “and your other stuff.” 

A knot of tension Tommy didn’t even realize that he was carrying loosens. Henry and all of the others are here. They’re safe. 

“Thank you.” He doesn’t want to talk but he doesn’t want Wilbur to think that he’s ungrateful either. If he thinks he’s ungrateful he might take them all away again. 

“You’re welcome. I don’t want to overwhelm you, but I want to make sure you’ve got everything you need. Are you hungry at all? Thirsty? I can bring you anything you want.” 

Tommy shakes his head, his stomach is churning too much with nerves for him to want to eat anything. 

“Alright, just tell me when you are, okay?” 

Tommy nods. His eyes flick towards the water. He wants to go to it, to make sure his fish are okay, and to get away from Wilbur, but he makes himself stay still instead. Wilbur is talking to him, he has to be good, he has to pay attention. 

“You can go in if you want,” Wilbur says as if he can read Tommy’s mind. “I can stay up here or I can go and let you settle in.” 

Tommy shrugs, he’s not going to tell Wilbur to  _ leave _ . He would never do that. 

He doesn’t really want Wilbur to leave anyway. He never wants Dream to leave either, he’s too clingy. His fingers itch for something to do, he reaches for his tail and slips the tip of his claw under one scale. 

“Hey Tommy,” Wilbur says, “I’d rather you didn’t hurt yourself, okay?” 

Tommy freezes,  _ stupid, stupid, stupid _ . 

He opens his mouth and a warble almost makes it out but he shuts his jaw so hard his teeth click together and manages to keep it from escaping. “Sorry.” he whispers instead. He wrings his hands together, trying to keep them occupied. 

“Its okay,” Wilbur says, “I just don’t want you to hurt yourself.” 

“They grow back,” Tommy assures him. 

“...Yeah, but it hurts to pull them, its not good for you. I just want to keep you healthy and safe. Its okay if you slip up and do it, but I’d rather you use this, okay?” He holds out his hand and there’s something in his hand, brightly colored and rattling faintly as he moves it. 

“Its a fidget toy,” Wilbur explains, "so you can do something with your hands that isn’t hurting yourself. Its okay if this one doesn’t work out for you there’s a bunch of different ones we can try.” 

“Thank you,” Tommy whispers again, hesitantly reaching out to take the toy. Wilbur holds completely still as he does, he doesn’t reach out and grab him or hit him like Tommy is half-afraid he will. He only smiles as Tommy pulls away. 

Tommy rolls the toy between his hands, moving all the little parts. Its something to do with his hands at least. 

Wilbur’s phone buzzes and Tommy jumps. “Sorry, its just my friend texting me,” Wilbur says. “I forgot to put it on silent. I’m going to talk to her for a bit if that’s okay. You can go check on your fish if you want.” 

Tommy nods, caught between gratitude that he can leave and dread at being left alone. 

“I’ll only be a few minutes,” Wilbur says, “then I’ll come back and you can stay under if you want or you can come back up and ask me any questions you have, alright?” 

Tommy nods again and Wilbur smiles at him before he gets up, phone to his ear. “Hey Puffy,” he says quietly, the door shuts behind him, cutting off the rest of his words. Tommy waits for a moment, and then climbs off the couch and slips into the water. 

*** 

“I’m not interrupting, am I?” Puffy asks. 

“No,” Wilbur assures her, “well. I was in the middle of talking to Tommy but,” he sighs, “I can’t say I’m sorry for the interruption.” 

“Tell me about it?” She always says that, never pushes, never demands, just an invitation, one Wilbur gladly takes. 

“He’s just so...scared,” Wilbur says, “I wasn’t even doing anything, I was just  _ sitting there _ and he almost had a panic attack. I don’t know how to put him at ease, am I doing something wrong?” 

Mer just aren’t  _ like _ Tommy. They’re opinionated, and loud about it, no matter the situation. They don’t  _ freeze _ like Tommy does, they don’t sit there with their fins low and eyes on the ground. They don’t just  _ wait _ for something to happen to them. 

Even Daisy and Lilly, at most four and five, separated from their pod, sick with hunger on a sandbar had hissed at the rescuers when they were found. Daisy’d  _ bitten _ Jack. 

Not Tommy, he’s only made the tiniest, most beaten down little sounds Will has ever heard. He’s not even making those anymore, he was utterly still and silent, if not for his increasingly panicked breaths, Wilbur might have thought he was a statue. 

“You’re doing an amazing job, Will,” Puffy says, “I’m sure of it. Considering the circumstances? Its probably a miracle he  _ didn’t _ have a panic attack. He’s in a new place, with new people, and all he’s ever known is abuse and isolation. But you’ve kept him calm, just keep doing that. Explain things to him, everything about this situation is completely new to him.” 

Wilbur nods even though she can’t see it, “right. I just--” 

“Its a lot,” Puffy says, “not quite what you were expecting to end up in the middle of when you were the only one to get through traffic. But you’ve got all of us to help you, and you’re doing great so far.” 

“Thank you,” Will mutters. “I guess I should go back in there?” 

“Probably. I just wanted to make sure you knew you could reach out to me at any time.” 

“I appreciate it.” 

“I know. Now get back in there.” 

“Yes ma’am.” 

She hangs up with a little click and Will braces himself against the wall to take one more deep breath. He can do this. He will do this. 

He just needs something to help break the ice. 

***

The pool in the ‘recovery room’ is smaller than his tank. There isn’t room for the coral and rocks to be arranged in the exact same way, but they are all there. As are all of the fish. Tommy gently scoops Henry closer and curls around him. A relived trill wants to escape his mouth but he forces it down. 

He’s safe, they’re all safe. They’re all here. Tommy isn’t alone. 

Even if Dream is gone, even if he’s Wilbur’s now instead of Dream’s. Wilbur was kind enough to let him keep all of his things, even though he has been bad and not good. Henry wiggles out of his grasp and returns to the reef as Tommy drifts down. 

The tank feels a little cramped with everything in so close, but he isn’t going to complain. His den is gone though, instead there is a little door on the wall. Cautiously Tommy pokes his head in, its like a den, but instead of a room made from rocks propped against each other its carved into the wall itself. There are two chambers instead of just one, the back one holds all of his toys and trinkets. He scoops them close and bites down on another relieved trill. 

He adds the ‘fidget toy’ to the pile and hopes that Wilbur lets him keep it. 

Wilbur said he was going to be back soon, Tommy should go back up to him. Show him that he’s willing to be good, willing to listen. 

But he feels so much safer here in the dark of the den, with the weight of the water pressing down on him. Surely he can stay for a little bit longer. Wilbur can call for him if he really wants Tommy back up there. 

Wilbur did say he could ask questions though, and Tommy has so many. What will he do now? What does WIlbur want from him? Will he have to fight? 

His scar aches at the thought. He doesn’t know how to fight, he was never trained for it. Surely Wilbur will train him first. He went through so much trouble to get Tommy, surely he won’t be killed in the first match. 

An anxious warble gets caught in his throat. 

Above him, he hears the door shut. Wilbur must be back. 

Reluctantly he pries himself out of his den and rises to the surface with a few flicks of his fins. He only lets his head poke out over the top of the water, sheltered beneath the lip of the floor. 

Wilbur is crossing the room, he doesn’t seem angry, so the phone call must not have been anything bad. He’s got a strange thing in his hands, one end is thin, but at the bottom it’s bigger, kind of wobbly shape. 

Wilbur sits on the couch and moves his fingers over it. Notes drift into the air as his fingers dance over the strings and Tommy is  _ fascinated. _ He drifts closer, watching the way Wilbur’s hands shift up and down the instrument. 

Its a simple tune, just a repeating pattern of notes, up, down, up, down, down, down, up, and then over again. He doesn’t realize he’s humming along until Wilbur stops playing and his voice is the only sound in the room. He chokes himself off and ducks lower into the water. 

Wilbur doesn’t seem annoyed though, he’s looking at Tommy with a smile. “Hey, there you are. You like it?” He shifts the instrument a little. 

Tommy nods, because he knows better than to not respond to a question. 

“You know any songs you want me to play?” 

Tommy shakes his head, Dream sometimes played music, but usually he preferred to work in silence. He hopes that Wilbur will keep playing through. 

“I’ll show you some of my favorites then.” Wilbur takes the instrument back in his hands and his fingers dance over the strings again, and music follows them. Its a more complex song this time, and Wilbur hums along for a bit before he adds words. 

Tommy props his head on the edge of the pool and listens raptly, its almost peaceful. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything is different and wrong and he is bad and Wilbur is impossible to understand. He wants Dream back. Dream made sense, Dream was nice. He talked to Tommy, didn't ask weird, useless questions, he taught him how to be good and civilized.   
> He let Tommy know what he wanted and what was expected. It was easy, predictable.   
> Wilbur is everything but.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rip to you guys this one is an angsty chapter but! Worry Not! I am merciful and I have written just this morning six hundred words of Pure Grade A Mer AU Fluff just for you guys. Its listed in the series, enjoy that! And if nobody is feeling up to reading angst then feel free to just hop over to that fic and leave this chapter for another day. We'll get through it fam. 
> 
> TWs: Tommy thinking about Dream, lots of Tommy being nervous and frustrated, disassociation, violence and blood, self harm, panic attacks. Its a cheery chapter.

Being Wilbur’s is both completely different from being Dream’s and in many ways, almost the same. Wilbur spends a lot of time in the room above the pool, like Dream did in his office. Only Wilbur doesn’t work from a desktop computer, he only has a tablet, and he answers calls on his cellphone in a casual voice. 

He obviously doesn’t usually work here, so Tommy isn’t sure why he is now. Surely he doesn’t think Tommy is so badly behaved that he can’t be left unattended. Not that Tommy was particularly well behaved when they met. 

That thought makes him cringe in the dark of his den. 

He tries to show Wilbur that he can be good, he comes up whenever Wilbur calls to him, he eats without complaint, he doesn’t make a nuisance of himself when Wilbur plays the guitar, even though he really likes it. He keeps quiet and out of the way, just like Dream always wanted him to.

He picks at his scales sometimes, but usually he catches himself quickly and plays with the fidget toy instead. The scale picking is pretty much the only thing Wilbur has told him  _ not _ to do so he can’t disobey the one rule he’s been told. 

The days slip by and Wilbur doesn’t seem to notice how good he’s being. Usually Dream would at least have complimented him or even given him a treat for being this good for this long. Wilbur only watches him with a kind of sad look and asks him weird questions. 

Why does it matter what Tommy wants to do? He’s not going to do anything bad. He’s perfectly willing to do whatever Wilbur tells him to, if only Wilbur would  _ tell him _ . 

Its confusing and frustrating and Tommy spends a lot of time circling over the reef underwater, trying to keep himself from picking at his scales when the fidget toy isn’t satisfying enough. 

Tommy sighs, twirling over himself for something to  _ do _ . He has too much energy, he feels like he’s going to burst. Even though he’d never,  _ never _ , hurt them, the movement of his fish makes him want to chase after them. He has to be better than that though, he is more than his instincts and besides, the fish are his friends, his pets. He wouldn’t hurt them, he wouldn’t even scare them. 

He does a couple loops, his tail rises out of the water as he does, he doesn’t have as much space as he used to. 

His claws itch for something to do. He taps at the plaster bandage on his flank, picking a little bit at the rough texture. Then he pulls his hands away with a frustrated growl. 

He turns, fast and sharp, fins flaring out. He can’t go up, because that would disturb Wilbur, he can’t pick at his scales, because Wilbur doesn’t want him to, he doesn’t have room to  _ move _ in this stupid tank. 

He can’t do anything, because everything would be bad. A frustrated sound builds in his throat but he presses it down mercilessly. 

Everything is different and wrong and he is bad and Wilbur is impossible to understand. He wants Dream back. Dream made sense, Dream was nice. He talked to Tommy, didn't ask weird, useless questions, he taught him how to be good and civilized. 

He let Tommy know what he wanted and what was expected. It was easy, predictable. 

Wilbur is everything but. 

He ducks into his den and grabs the fidget toy. He wants to tear it apart, wants to watch the little pieces drift to the bottom of the tank, suddenly he wants to tear  _ everything _ apart. But he can’t. He drops the toy and clenches his hands into fists. He can’t damage anything. Not the things Dream gave him, because they might be the last things he ever gets from Dream. And certainly not the one from Wilbur, because that would be bad. 

His claws dig into his palms and blood scents the water. He releases his fists with a gasp. Wilbur didn’t want him to hurt himself and what had he done? 

Above him, the water splashes. 

Perfect. Just perfect. 

He wants to huddle in his den, but he can’t ignore a call to the surface so he reluctantly rises. Wilbur is crouched at the edge of the water, a smile on his face. But its not like Dream’s smiles, which were always confident and honest. Wilbur’s is kind of nervous and queasy looking. 

“Hey,” he says, “you doing alright there buddy?”

“Yes,” Tommy says, making sure his voice is quiet and respectful, not frustrated. 

“You sure? You’re pacing around a bunch, if you need something you can tell me, or ask me.” 

Tommy clenches his hand into a fist again, the sting from his cut palms is a good enough punishment. He disturbed Wilbur, even though he’s  _ trying _ to be good, he’s still managing to be bad. He strangles down a sound, he isn’t even sure what sound it would have been. Something angry and scared and stupid. He is better than that. He has to be. He has to be good. 

“Sorry,” he says after taking too long to wrestle his voice into submission. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.” 

“You didn’t,” Wilbur says, even though Tommy  _ clearly did _ , “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. How’s your side doing?” 

“Fine.” There’s a hint of frustration in his voice, he clenches his fists tighter. 

“Okay,” Wilbur says, he sits down instead of crouching, his legs folded under him. Tommy doesn’t even know how they  _ do _ that, it looks uncomfortable. Wilbur has his hands on his knees, “if its hurting you you can tell me.” He tilts his head a little bit, trying to catch Tommy’s eye, but Tommy keeps his gaze lowered. He can be good, he’s trying to be good. Can’t Wilbur just  _ see that _ ? 

“I know.” Not that he would, he wouldn’t disturb Wilbur for that, its not a bad injury. He’s had worse. The scar on his chest twinges. 

“Niki mentioned that she wanted to come take a look at you,” Wilbur says, and Tommy’s heart is torn in two directions. 

On the one hand, someone is coming to take a look at him, finally,  _ finally, _ something normal. Something he knows, something he can do, something he can be  _ good _ at. Finally he can show Wilbur how good he can be, how good he is. 

On the other hand, part of him will always hate these displays. He hates laying on his back, hates fighting against his instincts to be good. Hates how much power they still have over him. 

“Would you be okay with that?” Wilbur asks, and that is an  _ utterly confusing _ question. Why would it  _ matter _ ? Why would he ask? Dream never did, because it doesn’t matter if Tommy is okay with it. It simply is, its his  _ job _ , its what he’s  _ for _ . 

“Of course,” he says politely. 

Wilbur doesn’t really seem to believe him but he’ll see. He’ll see how good Tommy can be. Tommy will show him, and then things can go back to being normal. Or at least as normal as they can be without Dream, in a new, strange tank. 

“I’ll call her then,” Wilbur says, “she’ll probably be by after lunch.” 

Tommy doesn’t show the thrill of nerves that dance down his spine. 

That’s so  _ soon _ . Usually Dream tells him in the morning if there will be people coming that day, and he has time to worry before he calms himself down. Everything feels rushed now, like he’s wasted his time even though he didn’t know this was happening. 

He forces his fins not to flare, not to give away how he feels. It doesn’t matter how he feels, he only needs to do his job, the one thing he  _ can _ do. Then Wilbur will see how good he can be. 

“Is that alright?” Wilbur asks  _ again _ . He’s always asking things, always saying ‘alright?’ and ‘okay?’ like Tommy’s opinion  _ matters.  _ Like asking for it isn’t a waste of time. 

Tommy nods, not trusting his voice. He wants to go back under, but Wilbur is still sitting there, still looking at him. Wilbur doesn’t look sure, Tommy doesn’t know what he  _ wants _ . He wants to scream and beg for Wilbur to just  _ tell him _ . But that would be bad. 

He wrestles down the feelings, shoves them away into a little box. He is better than this, better than his instincts. Dream made him better. He just has to be quiet and civilized and obedient and everything will be fine. Everything will be fine. 

The cuts on his hands sting. Hopefully they’ll be small enough that Niki and Wilbur won’t notice. He unclenches his fists so he doesn’t make them worse. 

“I’m going to call her now, then,” Wilbur says, like he’s asking for  _ permission _ or something equally ludicrous. 

Tommy nods and sinks deeper into the water, hoping that Wilbur will let him go. He needs time to collect himself. Wilbur turns away and Tommy dives. He just needs to calm down, he just needs to get ahold of himself. Then he can show Wilbur how good he can be. 

Everything will be fine if he can just do that. 

*** 

Its been three days and Tommy is still quiet and stiff whenever Wilbur talks to him. He stays beneath the water for the most part, probably holed up in the den. Wilbur wishes with every last inch of his heart that he could convince the kid that he didn’t need to. That he would be safe to stay on the surface with Will, that he doesn’t need to be so afraid. 

It will take time, he reminds himself periodically. He just needs to be patient, show Tommy that he is trustworthy, that he won’t hurt him. He stays in Tommy’s room a lot, mer do terribly in isolation, especially if they’re injured or sick. The recovery rooms are rarely used for that exact reason. 

Unless the sickness is contagious or the injury truly dire, any mer would do better out with the pod rather than locked away in here. Any mer besides Tommy, that is. With his chest picked clean of scales, the terrible scar is easy to see, and its equally easy to see what caused it. 

There aren’t many things besides another mer that could have made that sort of wound. Four ragged lines that tear down Tommy’s ribcage, only barely stopping in time to avoid gutting him. It was a near fatal blow. Wilbur supposes that they’re lucky Dream considered Tommy valuable enough to heal from it rather than just leaving him to die. 

The very thought feels wrong, to weigh the life of a child according to its value. To even consider being in any way grateful to Dream for what he did to Tommy. 

But the fact is that Tommy would not feel any more at ease around other mer than he does around Will. He’d probably feel less at ease. For now, Wilbur is on his own. 

Hopefully Tommy will establish a little bit of trust with Niki though. Having someone else to help with him would be a huge weight off of Wilbur’s shoulders. Not to mention that having their head medic in Tommy’s trust would help with any medical issues that might arise in the future. 

Tommy is definitely wary about seeing her for now though, he’d frozen up even worse than usual when Wilbur had mentioned her. He’s still not entirely sure that he should call her in, but the bandages need to be changed, and it isn’t something Wilbur can do on his own. 

Not only because he lacks the experience, Sam is extremely clear on the rules about how many people have to be present when any new mer is undergoing treatment, or is in any sort of stressful situation. Wilbur had gotten quite the dressing down about going into the tank with Tommy alone. 

Lunch is an even more stilted affair than usual. Tommy is heartbreakingly confused about the mer safe dishes that the kitchen prepares. Like he’s never encountered any sort of food preparation before. Wilbur wouldn’t put it past Dream to have fed the kid raw fish his entire life. 

Which, granted, wasn’t necessarily  _ bad _ for him. Mer pods out in the ocean lived off of that diet, but Tommy wasn’t out in the middle of the ocean. He was here, on land, and here on the coast it was easy to get mer-safe meals. Dream simply didn’t care to put the effort in. 

Tommy hunches over his plate, like he expects it to be taken away at any moment. And he wolfs down the food like he’s got only a few seconds to eat. Wilbur honestly fears that he’s going to choke one of these days. 

He eats slowly, trying to encourage Tommy to do the same without bringing it up. Soon enough, they’re both finished eating and his phone is lighting up with a text.

**Niki:**

**On the way. Your dad is coming**

Wilbur bites back a sigh, Tommy is already on edge. He has to be calm and steady. But he really wishes his dad would stay out of this. Or at least that he would have given Wilbur some warning before he decided to come along. He taps out a quick reply: 

**Me:**

**Fine.**

“Hey,” he says, catching Tommy’s attention before he can slip back into the water. Tommy freezes, his shoulders hunching a little. Wilbur forces himself to relax, to appear utterly harmless. His muscles loose, his head tilted a bit to bare his throat just enough to put the mer at ease without making it too obvious what he was doing. 

It usually works wonders with the babies, but Tommy is looking down at his hands instead of at Wilbur’s body language. He holds the position regardless, just in case Tommy glances up. 

“Niki is on her way,” he says quietly, calmly, its not a big deal. Wilbur isn’t worried, so Tommy doesn’t need to be worried. “She’s bringing my dad with her, I don’t think you two have met yet, but he’s very nice.” 

Tommy’s eyes flick to him, and then away just as quickly, but he’s not bristling. He’s not flexing his claws or baring his teeth. They’re fine then. 

“You can go under if you want,” Wilbur offers, “it’ll take them a bit to get here.” 

He’s not sure if Tommy actually wants to go into the water or if he takes the words as an order, either way, he goes. Unlike most of the mer Will knows, Tommy has a habit of slipping in and out of the water silently. Even Techno tends to splash a little. 

Or a lot, when he’s being a shit on purpose. 

Wilbur gets off the floor and returns to his usual spot on the couch with a quiet sigh. His phone lights up again. 

**Sam:**

**How is Tommy doing?** ****

**Me:**

**Okay. Still wary but I think he’s calming down.**

**Niki is coming to change his bandages.**

**Sam:**

**Keep me posted.**

**Police are up my ass about getting a statement from him.**

**I’m stalling them though.**

**Me:**

**Will do**

An interrogation from the police is the  _ last thing _ Tommy needs right now. Wilbur scowls at the wall. As if they didn’t already have enough evidence of Dream’s crimes, surely they could lock the fucker in some dark hole somewhere and throw out the key. Surely they didn’t need to retraumatize a kid by making him relive that shit before he’s ready. 

Certainly not three days after he’s out of the goddamn  _ fishtank _ he was being kept in. 

His phone lights up: 

**Niki:**

**At the door, let us in?** ****

Wilbur takes a deep breath and purposefully releases all the tension in his body. He’s the one Tommy trusts the most--however much he actually trusts Wilbur at the moment at least--he is effectively the pod leader for now. He has to be the kid’s anchor and shelter. He can’t be keyed up. 

**Me:**

**One sec, let me get Tommy**

Wilbur crouches at the edge of the pool. Like he’d expected, Tommy is nowhere to be found. He splashes a hand in the water and Tommy’s head pops out of the den. Wilbur doesn’t like looming over him as he’s coming up out of the water, but this time he lingers at the edge of the pool, just to make sure that Tommy isn’t too agitated one last time. 

He’s moving in the same hesitant way as always, but his fins are laying flat, his teeth aren’t bared. His eyes are little wide maybe but he doesn’t seem too stressed. Maybe he is starting to trust Will, at least a little. 

Wilbur smiles at him, “Niki and dad are here,” he says, “if you’re still okay with them coming.” 

“Yes,” Tommy replies. 

His eyes flick up to Will, like he’s making sure he gave the right answer. It makes Will want to ask again, to make  _ really sure _ that Tommy is okay with this, but Tommy gave an answer, and Will can’t undermine that confidence by questioning him again. He’s not tense, he’s not vocalizing any anxiety or aggression. 

He’s hunched in on himself, but that just seems to be his usual posture. Niki and dad will be able to ease any nerves that he’s not showing, they’ll be fine. 

“Alright, I’ll get the door for them then.” 

He walks a bit more slowly than is absolutely necessary, just in case Tommy has last minute second thoughts, but the kid doesn’t make a peep. 

***

Its time. Its time and he doesn’t feel  _ ready.  _ He has to be better than good, he has to be  _ perfect. _ He has to be better than perfect. Only Wilbur is doing things differently than Dream did, everything is different. 

He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do. Usually Dream had him stay in the tank until he called him up to the catwalk, so that he could show the visitors how obedient Tommy was. Wilbur called him out before they even got here. 

“Niki and dad are here,” Wilbur says, “if you’re still okay with them coming.” 

Why,  _ why,  _ does Wilbur keep asking these things? They’re already here, he can’t just cancel the appointment because Tommy isn’t feeling up to it. That’s not how things  _ work _ . He doesn’t know how any of this is supposed to work now though. 

Is he supposed to roll over now? Or later? 

He looks to Wilbur but he’s already walking to the door. Tommy bites down an anxious trill and forces his fins to lay flat. He will be good, even though he doesn’t know what Wilbur wants. He will be good. 

He’s trying so fucking hard to be good. 

The door opens and Wilbur is murmuring polite, friendly greetings to the people on the other side. One of them is a woman, who seems oddly familiar even though Tommy is pretty sure he’s never met her before. Maybe all human women just look a lot alike, he hasn’t gotten to see many of them. 

The other one is a man, but he’s not human, at least not entirely. He’s got feathers dotted around his skin, thickest at his temples and scattered through his hair. Black against blond. On his back is a pair of massive wings. 

An avian. Tommy has heard of them, Dream taught him about them. More civilized than mer, but they’re still hybrids, still not as good as humans. Still slaves to their instincts. 

“Hello Tommy,” the woman says, “its nice to see you again.” 

He freezes, utterly taken off guard. They never speak to him, he’s never had to talk to one of Dream’s guests before. They don’t  _ like _ talking to him. He dosn’t know what to say. And ‘again’? When had she seen him before? 

He smothers a trill of nerves. 

“Hello,” he says, voice soft as he can make it. He flicks his eyes to Wilbur, but he doesn’t look angry. Not yet at least. 

“How are you feeling?” Niki asks, coming closer. She’s coming closer. 

He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to be doing, Wilbur isn’t telling him what to do. Is he even supposed to be talking to her? He’s been quiet for too long. His throat works, he fights with himself not to let a sound slip out, it won’t be words, it will be some chirp or trill and that is  _ bad _ . 

“Tommy?” the other man, what is his name? Who is he? Wilbur called him Dad, didn’t he? Is that it? 

“Yes?” he manages. 

“You alright mate?” Dad asks. 

“Yes.” 

Is he being too abrupt? Is it rude? He glances to Wilbur again but he’s standing with one hand in his pocket, his shoulders loose. He’s not smiling but he doesn’t look angry either. He looks calm. Tommy hasn’t messed up too badly then. 

Not yet at least. 

Wilbur is leading them over, but he’s still not made any signals. Tommy holds his position, fighting back the desire to let his fins flare, pushing down the sounds that want to come out of his mouth. He doesn’t know what to  _ do _ . 

Wilbur sits on the floor, not the dignified crouch that Dream had preferred, but that same twisty way of sitting that folds his legs together. Is Tommy meant to lay down? Wilbur still isn’t giving him  _ any signals _ . 

Niki folds herself down beside Wilbur, smiling gently, like he’s being good but is he? He doesn’t know. 

“I’m too old for that,” Dad says with a laugh, he sits on the couch. Is he the one in charge then? He thought it was Niki, but she’s on the floor and Dad is on the couch, he’s higher than her. Because he’s old or because he’s in charge? He doesn’t  _ know _ . He doesn’t know which one of them he’s supposed to impress more. 

Niki has a tablet out, and she’s tapping away at it. She’s taking notes? On what? He hasn’t done anything yet. He bites back another sound, why does he have so much trouble with them? Dream has taught him that they are bad his whole life. He knows better. His fins want to flare too, but he keeps them still. 

He keeps all of himself still. He just has to be good, he just has to figure out how to be good. How to do what Wilbur wants. 

_ Would Wilbur please just tell him what he wants _ . 

“Have you been having any pain?” Niki asks. 

Why? Why is she asking that? Why does she care?

It doesn’t matter, he has to answer. 

“No.” he has, a little bit, but he’s not going to  _ tell her that _ . 

“Have the bandages been pulling or anything? We can adjust it when we put on the new one if so. Techno complains about that stuff so much,” she laughs, fondly, she’s in a good mood. He hasn’t ruined this yet. He has no idea who Techno is. 

“Maybe if he didn’t like it he’d quit getting hurt,” Wilbur says, and oh. Oh. Techno must be one of the mer, one of the fighters. 

Is Niki their medic then? What sort of meeting is this? Is she a customer? A friend? Just the medic coming to check in on him? 

If he’s healed enough will he be going to the pits? His breath wants to come faster at the thought but he forces it to remain steady and calm. Chirps and trills crowd at his lips, begging to be released, but he smothers them away. He has to be good. 

“Would you be alright with me taking a look?” Niki asks, why do they all  _ ask? _ Why do they all pretend like his input matters? Why can’t they let him be silent and obedient like he’s supposed to be? 

He can’t speak, the sounds are too close to coming out. He nods instead and hopes that it won’t make them angry. 

“You sure?” Dad asks from the couch, Tommy had almost forgotten he was there. “Will can do it if you want.” 

He wants to bury himself deep in the darkness of his den just so he can avoid the fucking  _ questions _ . He nods again, please, please let them be satisfied. Just let this be over with. 

Niki scoots closer, “alright,” she says, “I’m going to spray this,” her hand moves out of the corner of his eye, but he doesn’t turn his head to follow the movement. Wilbur hasn’t told him to do anything but he was happy with Tommy being still. He just has to be still and let Niki do what she wants to him. 

No matter what it is he just has to sit still and bear it. He can do that. He’s done this before. They won’t need to tie him down like they did to treat his injury from the fighter mer. He’ll be good. He’ll be good. 

“It’ll be a little loud and a little cold,” Niki says. Pay attention,  _ pay attention _ , she’s probably going to ask him another fucking question. “But all it will do is loosen the bandage material so it’ll pull off without sticking. You ready?” 

He nods stiffly. 

He doesn’t even have to fight to keep quiet and still now. His body is falling into the perfect obedience Dream trained him for. His heart races in his chest, but he barely feels like he can move at all. Like he’s made of stone. 

Something hisses beside him, he flinches. Stupid. _ Bad _ . Why, why can’t he just be good? 

“Its alright,” Niki says, “just the spray.” 

She doesn’t sound angry, his eyes flick to Wilbur, to Dad. Neither of them look upset either. That was his one mistake, they’re being kind about it this time, but he can’t slip like that again. That is the one mistake he gets to make. 

The spray hisses again but he manages to keep still. Its cold against his scales, but like Niki said, it doen’t hurt. “We’ll give that a second to set,” Niki says, setting the canister aside. 

He can feel the spray working, feel the bandages shifting as they melt down his skin. Its a disgusting feeling but he doesn’t move or make a sound. 

Niki pokes at it, “there we go,” she says. “I’m going to pull it off, okay? Tell me if it hurts or sticks and we’ll give it a little more spray.” 

He nods again and she reaches towards him. He has to steel himself to keep from leaning away from her hands. She told him it wouldn’t hurt, and even if it  _ did _ hurt, he can’t just duck away from her. He has to be good. He has to be good. He just has to be good. 

The bandage material pulls away easily, in great gooey chunks. If he were any less well behaved he might pull a face at it. 

“Eugh,” Wilbur says beside him, “that stuff looks like a melted marshmallow.” 

“That was left out for a week,” Dad chimes in. 

“You want some?” Niki asks, a laugh in her voice, she reaches her goo covered hand towards Wilbur and he scoots away with another disgusted sound. 

They’re happy, they’re goofing around, they’re not angry. He’s doing it, he’s being good. He’s doing what they want. 

“Here, let me wipe off these last few bits and we’ll see how you’re doing,” Niki says, a soft rag swipes over his scales. Something pinches, pulls, and there is pain. 

And everything becomes a blur. 

_ Danger, danger, danger, threat. Attack. Kill or be killed.  _ His claws swipe out at his attacker, he screeches. Threat and challenge and a call for help all in one. 

Wide eyes, staring at him, fearful behind bloodied forearms. Voices raised, fear, panic, worry. His fins flare wide, making him look bigger. The threat is trying to scoot away but its too slow. He lunges, fangs bared, claws reaching. 

Something tackles him to the ground a heavy weight on his back. Hands around his wrists. He screams, thrashes, but he’s crushed under the weight. His tail lashes, trying to throw the new threat off balance. 

Water, there, to his right. He just needs to get into the water. He calls again, but there is no answer. Where is his pod, where is Dream? 

Dream.

Everything stops, too late, far, far, far too late. 

“Tommy, Tommy, listen to me,” someone is saying, “you’ve got to stop.” 

He’s still fighting, still thrashing, still being so so unforgivably  _ bad.  _ What has he done? What has he  _ done? _

He freezes, his heart races. There are no thoughts in his head, only blind, senseless panic and the too-late desire to hold completely, utterly still. To hope against all logic that he won’t be punished for this, but how could he not be? When he has been so  _ bad. _

His breath is coming out in those little chirps again but he doesn’t bother to try and stop them. He’s shaking, trembling all over and he can’t stop that either. He can’t stop anything. He’s out of control wild. Feral. He’s everything Dream taught him not to be. 

Niki is in front of him, Wilbur crouched between Tommy and her, his hands cradling her forearm. There are deep slices in the skin, bleeding freely down onto the floor. 

He hurt her, he  _ hurt her _ . 

“Tommy,” the person on his back says, it has to be Dad. The hands around his wrists let go, and the weight disappears off of him, slowly, steadily. Like he’s waiting for Tommy to whip around and attack him. 

Why wouldn’t he be worried about that? After Tommy has shown how bad he is. How wild. He’s no better than the pit mer. They’ll throw him in with them now, after they finish punishing him for this. 

“Tommy, its alright,” Wilbur says. Wilbur  _ lies _ . Its not alright, it will never be alright, because he is so unforgivably bad. Despite everything Dream tried to teach him. 

They’ll punish him for this, they’ll  _ kill him  _ for this, and he’ll deserve it, but he can’t make himself lay still and take it. He’s already bad, there’s no point in trying to be good anymore. 

He rolls into the pool and dives straight into his nest. He hides in the corner at the very back, as if the shadows will hide him, as if the walls are a shelter and not a prison. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a mer outside of the den. A big male, scaled in pinks and reds, scars on his face and the parts of his torso that Tommy can see. This is his death then, not a bullet, but a fight. A fight he cannot hope to win. His scar aches fiercely, like it is fresh instead of a year old. He twists onto his back, head tilted to bare his throat, it is a useless submission, it will not matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another day, another chapter of Pain for you guys, enjoy. :] 
> 
> Warnings: Tommy spends like...the Whole chapter thinking he's gonna die. There's a small flashback to when he got injured, Dream is mentioned.

Phil has lived on or around the coast nearly his whole life, and as such, he has spent a great portion of his life around mer. From the laid back group of males that watched over the beach where he grew up to the series of business connections that eventually led him to meet Sam and get this job. Phil probably knows more about mer than he does avians.

Wilbur has the same sort of foundation, he was a child himself when Phil first brought him to the center to meet the mer. He’d put some of the mer kids at ease, having another child around, even one from another species made it easier for them to accept that this wasn’t some dastardly human plot to skin them or sell their scales or whatever other stories they were told in their pod.

Wilbur and Phil know mer. That’s why Phil was more proud than worried when Wilbur was assigned as Tommy’s primary guardian. Its a big responsibility, but Will is ready for it, Will can handle it.

Still, to be on the safe side, when Niki mentions she’s going to change Tommy’s bandages, Phil comes along with her. Tommy hadn’t been violent when they’d collected him from the fucking tank he was being kept in, but mer can change their attitudes on a dime. It takes an experienced eye to spot the warning signs sometimes.

Tommy is eerily still and silent for a mer, its one of the first things that Phil notices about him. Even though he’s nervous about the bandage change, he isn’t vocalizing it. There are very minute twitches of his fins, but not the clear signals that Phil is used to reading from mer body language. He takes up a position removed from the group, keeping the pressure of too many people off of Tommy.

Tommy is definitely nervous, from his withdrawn, submissive position, but he’s responding fairly well to Niki and Wilbur’s proximity. He keeps glancing to Will, but Will is doing a good job of keeping his own body language calm and relaxed and Tommy is mirroring that energy fairly well, from what Phil is reading.

He’s overly submissive, but that’s probably to be expected from his upbringing, the quiet is too. All in all, Phil thinks its going pretty well.

Right up until Niki brushes off the last of the bandages. Phil can see a little bit not loosened by the spray, and he’s opened his mouth to warn her when it happens. The liquid bandage tugs, and Tommy’s fins twitch with pain, and then they explode out to full spread and he whips around with a shriek of rage.

His claws slash and Niki barely manages to get her arms up in time to block the blow, her voice cries out with pain. Wilbur is shouting with surprise and fear, trying to call Tommy off, trying to pull Niki away. Phil is moving, but he’s already moving too slow, already coming into the situation too late.

Tommy isn’t pulling back, he’s not trying to run. This isn’t just a reflexive strike from pain, this is a full out attack. Tommy is making a terrible threat rattle in the back of his throat, his fins flared wide, still-growing sail on his back fully raised. His eyes are blank, there’s no thought behind them. This is a fully feral mer, and there were absolutely no warning signs.

He dives into the fray. Wilbur is pulling Niki back, but Tommy is chasing them. Phil throws himself onto the mer’s back, the way Sam taught him to years ago. He’d practiced on full grown mer, Sam, mostly, and even Techno a few times once he’d trusted Phil enough. Tommy is nowhere near their size or strength, but he is powered by the sheer instinctual drive to live. To kill what he thinks is trying to kill him.

Phil pins his wrists, keeping well out of the way of Tommy’s mouth. There’s no way for Tommy to get enough leverage to throw him off from this position but that doesn’t stop the kid from trying.

Niki and Will are out of range, Will has his phone to his ear. Niki is pressing her shirt to her forearm, its already soaking red. Fuck. The scent of blood on the air is not going to calm Tommy down.

Neither will being pinned, but Phil can’t let Tommy up now. Not until they’ve got backup in the room to help if he gets clawed or bitten. Niki is pale but responding to Will’s questions. Outside, he can hear pounding feet. Tommy is still thrashing underneath him, snarling and making high, shrill, distress chirps alternatively.

The door opens, a couple pairs of boots enter, Phil can’t be bothered to look up and see who it is. He just waits until they’re close enough to help and points Tommy towards the water. The kid’s frozen, suddenly, like he just caught up with himself but Phil isn’t taking chances. He lets the kid up, prepared to have the mer whip around and attack. Luckily, Tommy dives into the water instead and they can take a small breath of relief.

They won’t be safe until they’re fully out of the room, but at least Tommy is unlikely to charge up out of the water at them. Phil manages to register that its Quackity and Ponk who have come to their aid. They help Niki off of the floor, Ponk has a first aid kit that he’s using to wrap the claw wounds on her forearms. Wilbur is unhurt, but clearly shaken. He’s staring at the water like it holds all the answers, but they both know it doesn’t. Phil guides them all out of the room.

It will be best to let Tommy calm down on his own.

There will be things to do in the meantime, getting Niki treatment, paperwork, and of course, the debriefs. Sam does love his debriefs, and this one will be a doozy.

There was no warning. Phil can’t get over that. There was absolutely no sign of how keyed up Tommy was. And he has to have been, no mer just jumps straight to this level of violence, this level of disassociation. Not even the most battle scarred fighting pit rescues have this sort of zero to one hundred response. What the fuck did Dream do?

***

They drop Niki off at the med bay, the other doctors will be able to see to her. Phil doesn’t even try to resist the urge to straighten Will’s jacket, the few almost invisible feathers hidden in his hair. He’s alright, Will is alright. Clearly just as, if not more, shaken than Phil, from the way he leans into the preening. Neither of them was expecting this, neither of them was prepared for it.

In unison, their phones light up. A text from Sam, no doubt. Phil lets Wilbur lean his head on his shoulder as he reads it. “Debriefing in room three.”

Wilbur nods, but doesn’t pick up his head. Phil straightens his hair down the back of his neck. Its soothing, feeling his son safe beneath his hands, being able to set at least this small thing to rights. Wilbur sighs, a bit of tension flowing out of his shoulders. “Alright, let’s go.”

Phil keeps his wing spread over his son’s shoulders as they walk, and Wilbur is kind enough not to mention it, or the way his feathers are ruffled protectively. Quackity and Ponk are already in the room when they arrive, as are Sam, Techno, and Puffy in the waterway that lines the far side of the room. Phil smothers a wince, the gang is all here.

And they all have their eyes fixed on Wilbur. He was the one in charge of Tommy, he, theoretically, should have known that he was being pushed too far and needed a break. Phil can almost see Sam’s calculations running through his mind. He steps in before they can get too far.

“There was no warning.” All three mer turn their attention to him. Sam’s fins are flared a bit along his arms, rippling up and down as he thinks, he makes a questioning click. An invitation for Phil to continue. “I was there with Will and Niki the whole time, Tommy was wary, maybe a little stiff, but there was no sign he was about to go off like that. Niki and Will were doing everything right, this isn’t on them.”

Techno’s sail flares up, “its not the kid’s fault either.” There is a warning note to the words, even though Phil knows that Techno trusts him. That Techno doesn’t think he’s one to lay blame on a mer unwarranted like some humans. They’re all on edge from this.

“No,” Phil agrees, “its Dream’s fault, at the root of things. Whatever he did to that kid? Its bad.”

“Tell us what happened,” Sam says, “and we’ll go from there.”

Wilbur begins, telling them what he observed of Tommy’s mannerisms and habits in the days leading up to this incident. Phil takes over, explaining what he’d seen when he and Niki arrived. Sam listens with a deeply thoughtful look on his face, but his fins are flaring and relaxing and he’s making little worried vocalizations. Techno and Puffy are much the same. None of them are happy, and unlike Tommy, they are capable of showing it.

“Our first order of business,” Sam says, once the situation has been looked at from every possible angle, “is to make sure that this doesn’t happen again. More safety measures will be in place around Tommy from now on. Nobody goes in with him alone, and everyone wears guards on their arms.”

“Having more people there might be what set him off this time,” Will argues, “are we really going to put that kind of pressure on him?”

“We don’t have another choice,” Techno says, a low rumble of discontent under the words, “he is still a mer, and he’s far more dangerous than a wild one if he’s not going to broadcast any kind of warning.” 

“Should another mer go in with him?” Sam asks next. “Puffy?”

Puffy taps her claws against the table thoughtfully, she clicks a few times and finally says, “we hold off for now I think. He’s already stressed, clearly. More so than we thought. Unless its an emergency, I don’t think we want to bring in another mer when we’ve got Phil and Wilbur here. They can mimic well enough to get by, now that we know its needed.”

Sam nods, “alright. Phil, Wilbur, you’re now jointly taking care of him.”

Phil nods gravely and he can see Wilbur doing the same beside him.

“I’ll look for some resources for you,” Puffy says, already tapping away at her tablet, “get some strategies and such. I’ll send it to you once I’ve pulled together some stuff.” 

This is a setback, a pretty big one, granted, but they’ll readjust and they’ll learn.

***

He lays in the deepest, darkest corner of the den and he waits. They’ll come for him, they’ll call for him, and he’ll have to rise up to meet them. To meet his fate. Be it a beating or worse. It will probably be worse, he knows the price for attacking a human. He saw what happened to the old mer in the pits. The one who suddenly snapped, like he just had.

He’s picking at his scales, there isn’t any point in being good anymore. He may as well.

Time slips by, he can’t seem to keep track of it. He stares at the wall and picks at his scales and time becomes something unknowable.

After hours, or maybe days, he hears the door open and close. They’ve come for him. He should go, he has to go. But he can’t make himself move, its like he’s disconnected from his body. His fingers pick another scale off. Someone splashes the water at the surface.

He can hear a voice, he thinks it might be Wilbur. 

He doesn’t move, he can’t move. He stares at the wall and waits. They’ll come for him one way or another.

The door opens and closes again, after awhile. He doesn’t know how long. After that, it opens again, someone splashes at the surface. Dimly he hears Wilbur, he sounds upset. His tail feels like one raw wound, it aches under the assault of his fingers. He wants to stop, but he can’t. The smell of blood is thick in the water.

The door closes again. A splash comes from the surface, but not the small one of someone just using their hand. This is something far bigger entering the water. His breath comes faster, the blood is choking him. They’ve come for him. They’re going to kill him. He’s chirping, like that won’t make things worse. He curls tightly around himself. He can feel the water moving as something swims through it.

Once Dream came into his tank and swam with him. When he was recovering from the injury to his chest. He’d been so shocked to see Dream in the water, his blond hair floating around his head, his eyes covered by the mask, but looking down at Tommy so softly, so worriedly. He’d run his fingers through Tommy’s hair, and not gotten mad when Tommy had slipped and made a sound at him instead of using words.

Whoever is in his tank now will not be doing that.

He presses his face into the corner, he doesn’t want to see it coming. He can’t stop the chirps slipping out of his mouth but why bother even trying to be good when he’s been so bad? There is nothing for him now, only the death he can feel looming over him.

A rumble vibrates the water, it is safety, protection. He whips around to face it, an answering chirp on his lips.

There is a mer outside of the den. A big male, scaled in pinks and reds, scars on his face and the parts of his torso that Tommy can see. This is his death then, not a bullet, but a fight. A fight he cannot hope to win. His scar aches fiercely, like it is fresh instead of a year old. He twists onto his back, head tilted to bare his throat, it is a useless submission, it will not matter. But curling up and hiding wouldn’t help him either. 

The mer in the fighting pits had been blue, the colors are still crystal clear in Tommy’s mind. The white of his fangs, the electric blue of his sail, ragged, drifting in the dirty water. The red of Tommy’s blood covering it all in mesmerizing clouds as he drifted towards the bottom of the tank. 

Only Dream isn’t here to save him now. No one will intervene on his behalf. 

The mer doesn’t attack him though, instead he rumbles again. It shakes the water, it shakes Tommy’s very bones. It makes him want to relax, to go to his doom with a pleading chirp. He squeezes his eyes shut instead and waits for the pain.

A massive hand rests on his chest, he flinches, a terrified whimper, nearly a scream, comes out of his mouth. The mer’s claws don’t dig into his flesh though, his hand merely rests on Tommy’s chest. A warm, almost comforting weight. He rumbles again and the vibration seems to travel directly to Tommy’s heart.

A shudder runs through him, but the mer keeps rumbling. It seems to sink into every inch of him, loosening muscles, slowing his heart. He drifts under the mer’s hand, tiny chirps keep coming out of his mouth but the mer only replies with a rumble and slowly they trickle to a halt. 

A trill comes out instead and the mer drags him to the opening of the den. He wants to pull away, but his muscles feel like they’re made of water. He can’t even lift his head. The mer cradles him to his chest and rumbles again. Tommy’s eyes slip closed and he can’t bring himself to open them even when they rise above the surface of the water.

*** 

_ “Never let the humans catch you _ ,” his Matriarch had always taught them,  _ “They’ll skin you for your hide, they’ll cut you up for soup, they’ll hunt you for sport. _ ” She had a hundred different stories about what the humans would do if they were caught. Now, Techno kind of figures that’s because she didn’t actually  _ know _ what the humans would do. 

The stories that always scared him most were when she threatened that the humans would take them as pets. “ _ They’ll keep you in tiny little prisons,” _ she’d said, voice creaking with age, half-blind eyes roving over them,  _ “twist you into their playthings. You’ll be nothing but pretty little dolls to them _ .” 

It was part of the reason he’d become a nursery guard in the first place. He remembers going to his own nursery guard in the night, frightened of humans coming for him. The mer had been patient and kind, reassured him that no human could get past him. 

When he’d grown up, he’d tried holding a territory for a bit, but it wasn’t for him. So he’d gone back to his birth pod and he’d challenged the mer holding it, when he’d won, he’d made sure that no humans would get to the children under his watch. They wouldn’t become little dolls for the human’s amusement. 

He thought that humans weren’t like that, in reality. He’d thought he’d left fears of lifeless little dolls in his childhood. 

Now his childhood nightmare has followed him into his adult reality. 

Tommy is pressed against his chest, completely limp, lulled nearly to sleep by a simple rumble of reassurance. He’s still making the little distress chirps--twisted, wrong sounding, strangled, like he’s not used to being able to make them--and Techno’s sail can’t help but flare every time he hears it. 

Techno heard Wilbur and Phil’s briefing, he knows just how bad the kid is. Too silent, too still. Used to being on display in some human’s office. He’s turned his own claws against himself, picking all the scales off of his chest, and now down his tail. 

He is a doll, but he is not a pretty one. 

Techno holds the boy close, rumbling to him again. He makes a helpless sort of whine and leans against Techno’s chest, like he is freezing cold and Techno is the only source of warmth. 

Techno adjusts his grip and flicks his tail, bringing them to the surface. The humans are waiting there, Phil and Wilbur, of course, but also medical staff. Not Niki, who he would almost be okay with handing the kid over to, but some other people. Strangers. 

His sail flares and he growls low. The kid whines and tries to pull away. Shit. Techno gets ahold of his instincts, he can’t lose control there. He rumbles reassurance and makes his sail lie flat. 

These humans wouldn’t hurt a mer child, they are allies. Phil and Wilbur are like family. 

Techno swims up the ramp, Phil comes forward first, helping him get the kid out of the water. Tommy’s breath is starting to come quicker, as heavily as he’s affected by the rumble, he’s still petrified. If it weren’t for the direness of the situation, Techno wouldn’t have brought him up at all. 

But he’s been working himself over with his claws. He came in with a hand sized bare patch and a couple of cuts, now he’s worked his way down his tail and he wasn’t careful with his claws in the slightest. There’s probably a couple places that will end up needing stitches. 

The kid twists over himself, turning and curling up defensively, then bending his spine out straight again, belly up surrender, head tilted back. The moment someone moves near him he’s curled up again, but just as quickly he’s in the position of absolute helplessness. 

It makes Techno’s instincts  _ scream _ in the back of his mind. Seeing a kid so twisted into his instincts, like an ingrown claw. He’s making the wrong-sounding distress chirps again, trying to smother them down even as they escape. 

Techno rumbles, long and drawn out as he lays himself down beside the kid. He pulls Tommy into his arms again, making sure to grab his wrists to keep the humans safe from his claws. Tommy fights, but Techno isn’t sure if he’s trying to get away, or bare his throat, or bury himself in Techno’s chest. Techno isn’t sure Tommy knows what he’s doing either. His eyes are wide and frantic, pupils contracted to the thinnest of slits, like the lights are too bright. 

Techno rumbles again and at least Tommy can’t keep up the fight with the way it makes his muscles go slack. As Tommy falls still the humans gather around. The medics chatter to each other, working frantically at the cuts Tommy has given himself. 

Phil kneels at Techno’s shoulder, “doing alright mate?” 

“Fine.” Techno says shortly, but he know that Phil knows how much this is affecting him. He is a fighter, he has fought and killed and defended the young of his pod. Whether the pod lives in the great depths of the Sea Mother or in the shallow pools of the Center. He rumbles again as Tommy tries to scoot away from Phil. 

Phil’s hand rests on his shoulder, it is welcome, especially given the way the medics have been glancing at him. Like they think his control will slip. 

It won’t. 

“We’ll get through this,” Phil says, calm and sure, even though Techno knows he doesn’t feel it. They could all use a comforting lie at the moment though. 

The medics are working fast, staunching blood and applying the liquid bandages to the most damaged areas. They won’t be able to put it over everything, not with the way Tommy has torn up his scales and skin. 

“Phil,” Techno says quietly, interrupting the near constant rumble he’s been keeping up,, and Phil turns to him immediately. 

“I think we’re going to need to clip his claws.” He hates to suggest it, because he knows that he would  _ hate _ having to go around with dull claws like the humans have. He’s sure that having them clipped will be one more thing to freak the kid the fuck out as well but at this point he’s not trustworthy enough to have them. 

“What?” Wilbur says from his other shoulder, “but--” 

“Techno’s right,” Phil says, “I was thinking the same thing.” 

Tommy is limp in his arms, he’s not even twitching as the medics work anymore. Techno is pretty sure that he’s nearly asleep. He’s probably been cooped up in that den scared out of his mind, no food, injured, and then all the fighting he did, he’s finally worn himself out.

Phil pulls a pair of heavy duty clippers out of his pocket, not the little ones that might work fine on human nails, but the sort that are made for claws. Avian or mer. 

Techno shifts his grip to hold out one of Tommy’s hands and Phil sets to work. Tommy watches with glazed eyes. Techno is nauseatingly aware that he seems more doll-like than ever. Laying there helpless as they adjust him to suit their desires. 

Phil files down the straight edges of Tommy’s claws and they move onto his other hand. 

Finally Phil lays both of Tommy’s hands on his chest, he’d fallen asleep at some point. The medics have done all they can for him, for the moment, there is peace. 

It won’t last, but Wilbur and Phil are leaning against his shoulders, and Tommy is, for now, resting against his chest, safe as Techno can make him. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m not going to hurt you,” Wilbur says, soft and sorrowful. He wishes that they could convince Tommy of that. 
> 
> Tommy opens his eyes and there is something in them at last. Its confusion and pain, but its not the terrible blankness. “Why?” he croaks, voice hoarse from disuse, “why won’t you just punish me?” 
> 
> Wilbur stares, he doesn’t know what to say, he doesn’t know how to respond to this. Has Tommy just been waiting this whole time for them to punish him? Is that what this is? Is this what Dream wanted when Tommy disobeyed? For him to just lay there and take whatever Dream felt like dishing out? 
> 
> Tommy curls in on himself and if he were human, Will is sure that he would be sobbing. But mer can’t cry. Tommy can’t cry. 
> 
> Will can though. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [shows up in your inbox dressed like a fancy waiter]   
> Good morning ladies, gentlemen, and everyone in between or beyond. We have a lovely selection of Angst for you today:  
>  We have some very nice 'touch starved Tommy' with a delectable side of 'Wilbur and Phil being Sad about this Poor Child' and just a *hint* of Dream's manipulation. Enjoy!

His body aches. A constant low pulse of pain that draws him from sleep as surely as a fish reeled in on a hook. He moans softly, curling into himself, but that only makes the pain flare. His tail feels like it has been shredded. 

He wraps his arms around himself, a low warble slips from his mouth and he can’t find it in himself to stop it. He attacked a human,  _ he attacked a human _ . He hurt her, he can remember with gut churning clarity the scent of her blood on the air, the crystal clear image of her face, terrified, pale with pain and fear. 

He hurt a human. 

But he isn’t dead. 

He should be dead, shouldn’t he? 

There was another mer, he came into Tommy’s tank but he didn’t kill Tommy either. He pulled him out of the den and brought him...here. 

Tommy opens his eyes. He is on the surface, the lights are dim above him, he’s lying on the couch, like he had when he first woke here in Wilbur’s possession. He keens and buries his face in the fabric. 

He hurts, and he knows he did it to himself, he knows that worse is coming. Wilbur will punish him for this. He isn’t like Dream, who loved Tommy and usually didn’t punish him as harshly as he deserved. 

His breath is coming too fast, and the  _ stupid fucking chrips _ are coming out of his mouth again. Tommy presses a hand over his face, squeezing his eyes shut. His claws dig into his cheek but...it doesn’t hurt. 

He looks at his other hand. His claws have been clipped down to nothing, filed to rounded edges. A high whine escapes.  _ Helpless,  _ his instincts say, and he has been nothing but a slave to them this whole time, there is no point in trying to silence them now. 

“Hey,” someone says, low and soft. Tommy looks up frantically and there stands Wlibur. He barely muffles a scream, he should lay still, accept his fate but he can’t make himself do it. He scoots off of the couch, onto the floor. Wilbur is between him and the water and all he can do is shove himself into a corner. 

Wilbur is talking all the while, he can’t process the words, all he knows is the tone. Soft and concerned and tense. He doesn’t understand why Wilbur isn’t angry. 

The door opens and another man comes in. Dad, or whatever his name is. Tommy keens. 

A rumble fills the air, higher than the one the mer had made, but it still soothes his instincts. Tommy is helpless against it, helpless against them. He rolls onto his back, forcing his arms down to his sides, his head tilted back. 

“Please,” he manages to whisper, the word is half corrupted into a chirp, “please I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’ll be good. I’ll be good I promise, I swear.  _ Please _ .” 

“We’re not going to hurt you,” Wilbur says, but it has to be a lie.

Tommy lays still and trembles, his eyes squeezed shut. 

“Tommy?” Dad says. 

Tommy doesn’t move, he just has to lay still. Just lay still and accept what they do. 

“Tommy you’re not in trouble,” Dad says, but he is even worse at lying than Wilbur.  _ Not in trouble. _ How could he  _ not _ be in trouble? He should be  _ dead. _ “We’re not going to hurt you.” 

He keens again, he wants to curl up, to protect himself, to wrap himself up in his own misery. He doesn’t  _ understand _ this place, these people, why they feel the need to lie, why he can’t keep his instincts under control. 

Another rumble, this time from two throats, his muscles slacken and his heart slows in his chest. He whines, but at least this doesn’t seem to be putting him to sleep like the mer’s had earlier. 

“Tommy none of us will hurt you here,  _ ever _ no matter what you do.” 

They don’t make sense. 

“Tommy can you look at me?” Wilbur asks, and Tommy can’t disobey. 

Wilbur and Dad are lying on the ground well out of arm’s reach, Wilbur has his chin resting on his folded arms. “Hey,” he says, smiling a little bit, “there’s those eyes. I’m not going to hurt you Tommy, neither is Dad.” 

Tommy takes a breath and tries to speak, the words won’t come out. He has to try a couple times before he manages to say, “but I hurt--” He can’t finish the sentence. 

“Niki’s been scratched a lot worse than that,” Dad says, “you surprised her, and all of us, but you’re not in trouble for it. We would never hurt you, no matter how much trouble you were in.” 

They keep saying that, they keep  _ lying _ , but they say it like its the  _ truth. _

It doesn’t make  _ sense.  _

He is too tired to try and figure out their motives. He is tired and he hurts everywhere and he just wants things to go back to normal. Only there is no more normal, he belongs to Wilbur, Dream is gone, everything Tommy knows is gone. 

He shuts his eyes. What they say doesn’t matter, what they do doesn’t matter. He doesn’t care anymore. He should be dead already. 

“Tommy?” Wilbur asks, but Tommy doesn’t move, doesn’t open his eyes. None of it matters, they will punish him in due time. Coth rustles and Tommy is sure that Wilbur is coming towards him, for a moment, he nearly tenses up but he can’t quite summon up the energy. He opens his eyes again, watching as Dad grabs Wilbur by the arm. Stopping him from coming closer. 

“How about we get you something to eat mate?” he says, “I always feel better after a bit of food, you’ve not eaten in awhile.” 

Tommy turns his eyes to the far wall. There isn’t anything particularly interesting on it, not even a stain or a crack. 

Its surprisingly easy to not care. To let the world drift by him as he waits. Dad and Wilbur hover around him talking, asking him questions, trying to get him to do things. He doesn’t  _ want _ to eat or go check on his fish. There is no point. 

The pink mer--they tell him his name is Techno--doesn’t come back either. They talk to him with their soft voices, offering their honeyed lies and Tommy lets the sound wash over him. They’ll get bored of it eventually. 

Hours slip by, Dad asks,  _ begs _ him to eat. He brings food, scooting it across the floor to Tommy’s side. He stays out of arm’s reach. 

Good, they should stay away from him. He attacked Niki, he hurt a human. He deserves to be punished, but they won’t, so at least they will stay away. 

Wilbur plays the guitar. He shouldn’t, he should be punishing Tommy, not doing something that he likes. He tries to shut it out, curling up, facing the wall and covering his ears. 

Time keeps going by. A day passes. They still haven’t punished him. 

“Tommy, you need to eat,” Dad says, there is a hint of something stern in his voice, but mostly its that soft worried lie. 

Tommy only looks at the wall. 

There is a long moment of silence and then Wilbur says, “Tommy I’m going to touch your shoulder.” 

Its come, then. Finally, they have grown tired of this and they will punish him. Soft footsteps cross the room towards him, Dad says “Wilbur,” in a soft cautious tone. 

A warm hand touches his shoulder. It feels burning hot against his skin, it feels like every one of his nerves is lit on fire by the touch. He wants to arch into it, wants to press his entire body into that hand. 

Against his will, a soft gasp leaves his lips. 

Wilbur takes his hand away. 

He wants to wail with the loss, suddenly it is almost impossible to not care, to let the world pass him by. Perhaps this is his punishment. He doesn’t know what Wilbur did but he suddenly can’t bear to be without the touch. 

The floor is cold and hard underneath him, he twists on instinct, reaching with desperate hands towards Wilbur. He leaps out of reach and Tommy doesn’t even try to suppress the desolate sound that claws its way out of his throat. 

He curls his arms in towards his own chest but its not the same. 

“Oh, Tommy,” Wilbur murmurs and then he is back. His hands wrap around Tommy’s own, rubbing up and down his arms. Every nerve is alight with the sensation, like parched ground soaking up rainwater. 

He’s shaking again, but it isn’t from terror this time. His voice raises in a strange half desperate, half thankful call. Wilbur scoops him up into his arms, turning to sit with his back to the wall, Tommy in his arms. “Dad,” he says, still soft, but sharp as well. “Get over here.” 

Dad is already halfway to them and he hesitantly combs a hand through Tommy’s hair. Tommy sighs, pressing up into the contact. This must be his punishment, they will leave him, they will stop touching him, he knows that its coming, it is inevitable. 

Only they don’t. 

He curls with his head shoved under Wilbur’s chin, Wilbur’s arms wrapped around him and Dad’s fingers stroking through his hair. 

He feels drunk on his desperation for it. It is probably good that they have cut his claws because he would have shredded Wilbur’s chest to ribbons if they hadn’t. Wilbur is rumbling, low and steady in his chest, Dad gently pulls a few tangles out of his hair and murmurs, “gods, kid.” 

Tommy whines, but Wilbur shushes him gently. 

“You think you could eat something for me Toms?” Dad asks and Tommy would do anything he asked if they would only not let him go so he nods. “Alright,” Dad says, and his hand leaves Tommy’s hair. 

He cries out like he’s been wounded, and another hand replaces it, holding him close. “He’ll only be gone for a bit,” WIlbur says, “I’m not leaving, Dad’s just going to get you something to eat. You’re alright.” 

Why do they have to be so  _ kind _ in their cruelty? 

Couldn’t they just punish him and leave it at that? Why did they have to tease him with this kindness, knowing that he hasn’t earned it. Knowing that he will lose it and probably never get it back. 

Dad comes back and there is a bite of fish being pressed against his lips. He takes it, being careful of his fangs and Dad gives him another. They go through what must be a couple of small fillets like that and then Tommy turns away from more. 

“That’s good,” Wilbur murmurs, “you’re doing so good Tommy.” 

But he  _ isn’t _ he isn’t and he doesn’t know why they keep lying. 

*** 

He can feel his legs going numb but there is nothing in the world that could convince him to move. Tommy has finally fallen asleep, but he’s still clinging desperately to Wilbur’s clothes, pressing himself into Wilbur like he’s trying to climb into his ribcage. 

Phil is crouched over them, his hand carefully sliding out of Tommy’s hair. 

“Dad,” Will whispers, “what are we going to  _ do _ ?” He thought that he could handle this, he’d been almost resentful when Sam assigned his dad to be Tommy’s other caregiver but now he isn’t sure that the two of them are even enough. 

They’ve never had a case like this, never dealt with a kid this torn up inside. They deal with kids that have been separated from their pods, they have their own set of problems but  _ this _ . Wilbur dosn’t even know where to  _ begin _ . 

Tommy has laid there, all but catatonic for a day and a half. He doesn’t trust them, there is no one they can bring who he would trust. Nobody but Dream. 

Dream was his entire world, and Tommy has no idea how to function without him, and Wilbur has no idea how to teach him. 

A warm hand threads through his hair, gently tilting his head back so he’s looking up to Phil’s eyes. “We’ll figure it out, it’ll be okay,” he says, like a promise. “Its a lot, but we’ll figure it out.” 

“We can’t let him do this again,” Wilbur says, “I’m not doing this again. I’m not going to sit there while he just lays in a corner.” 

Tommy murmurs uneasily and Wilbur takes a deep breath, mimicking the rumble of a mer to get him to settle down again. 

“I know,” Phil says once Tommy is quiet. “I’m sorry you had to. I know you want to help, but we can’t push him too much, Will. This is all new for him, and its all terrifying for him. We can’t treat him like we would any other mer kid. He has no idea how to  _ be _ a mer kid.” 

Phil sighs, running a hand over his face, “I’ve been talking to Puffy, she’s working on putting together resources for us. I wish we could bring in someone with experience in this sort of thing but I doubt there  _ is _ someone who’s got experience with this, and besides, it would be months before we could get them through all the permissions and regulations.” 

The fucking regulations are half of their problem. There is far too much red tape around mer kids, which  _ should _ protect them, but it is working against Tommy. 

It seems like everything is working against Tommy. 

***

Eventually Tommy wakes up, but he’s once again in that too-quiet too-still state that he’s been stuck in. Its like he’s entirely given up. He won’t eat, he doesn’t respond to their voices or even their touch anymore. 

He just curls up and stares blankly at whatever is in front of him. 

Wilbur is there as much as he can be, talking, playing music, offering Tommy food and company. Phil is there too, usually updating the others on the situation. 

Wilbur knows that they’re all getting desperate. Mer kids just don’t  _ do this _ . If they’re upset they let you know, loudly and often violently. They don’t just lay down and accept their fate, but that is exactly what Tommy has done. 

“Tommy,” Will says on the dawn of the fifth day, “you have to eat. If you don’t we’re going to have to get an IV and maybe even a feeding tube. We don’t want to do that to you.” He doesn’t even try to hide the pleading note in his voice. 

Tommy blinks, his eyes staring fixedly at the wall. 

“Please,” Will says, he’s tired, he hasn’t slept anywhere but the couch for days. “Just tell me what you want, how can I help you?” 

Phil is out of the room, on a call with Sam, and regulations say that Will should keep out of arm’s reach until his partner is back in the room. Regulations haven’t done them any good so far though. He lays down next to Tommy, right in his line of sight. 

“Just tell me what’s wrong, buddy,” Will murmurs. “I’ll fix it, I’ll find a way.” 

Tommy closes his eyes. 

Will reaches out and carefully brushes Tommy's cheek with the back of his knuckles. A tiny shudder runs down Tommy’s spine, and he frowns faintly, eyes squeezing shut tighter, like he’s bracing himself.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Wilbur says, soft and sorrowful. He wishes that they could convince Tommy of that. 

Tommy opens his eyes and there is  _ something _ in them at last. Its confusion and pain, but its not the terrible blankness. “Why?” he croaks, voice hoarse from disuse, “why won’t you just punish me?” 

Wilbur stares, he doesn’t know what to say, he doesn’t know how to respond to this. Has Tommy just been  _ waiting _ this whole time for them to punish him? Is that what this is? Is  _ this _ what Dream wanted when Tommy disobeyed? For him to just  _ lay there _ and take whatever Dream felt like dishing out? 

Tommy curls in on himself and if he were human, Will is sure that he would be sobbing. But mer can’t cry. Tommy can’t cry. 

Will can though. 

“Oh kid,” his voice is thick, his eyes sting with tears. He pulls Tommy close, “we’re not going to punish you.” 

“Please” Tommy cries, and Will can feel Tommy’s breath on his throat, he knows that Tommy’s fangs are only inches away. Sam will kill him for doing this but he doesn’t care. “Please just do it.” 

Will strokes a hand through Tommy’s hair, he wishes his dad were here, but he’s not going to pull away even for a second to call for him. “No. We don’t do that here, you’re  _ safe here _ , Tommy. We aren’t going to hurt you, we aren’t going to punish you for something you couldn’t control. You don’t deserve to be hurt,  _ nothing _ could make you deserve that.”

Tommy makes a desperate sound, a mournful wail and a broken croon twisted into a distress chirp. A strangled, stunted, malformed thing, Wilbur doesn’t think any other mer in the world could or would ever make a sound like that. It tears at his fucking heart. 

“Yes I  _ do _ ,” Tommy wails. “Please, please just punish me. I’ll be good.” 

“You’re already good,” Wilbur says fiercely, “you’re so good Tommy. You’re the best kid.” 

Phil opens the door, quietly, but Will can see the frantic worry on his face. Will gives him a wide eyed pleading look over Tommy’s head. “We’re not going to punish you,” he says, partially to Tommy, and partially to explain what the hell Phil has walked in on, “we’re not going to hurt you. Nobody will do that here, no matter what you do.” 

Tommy falls eerily still and for a moment, Wilbur is  _ terrified _ that he’s going to go back to that dead-eyed state. Instead he pushes away and in a blur of movement, dives back into the water. 

Wilbur is left sitting on the floor, Phil cautiously crosses the room to his side and pulls him up. Neither of them is sure what is going through Tommy’s head now, but at least he’s in the water again instead of sitting on the floor. Surely this can only be an improvement. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also everyone in the comments being worried about Dream showing up: there *is* a minor baddy showing up in the final chapter to nudge Tommy into one final realization but that's it. Green bitch ain't showing up. He's gonna choke on a sandwich or drown in the bath or some shit. He's gone. Fuck that guy. The asshole who shows up will also be dying. He is going to drive off a bridge while attempting to escape the police and never rise from the depths of the sea. A fitting end.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why can’t things just go back to the way they were? The way they’re supposed to be.  
> No matter what you do.  
> His lip curls up.  
> No matter what you do.  
> Fine. Fine. They want him to earn his punishment? He fucking will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [shakes bucket] I got angst for u
> 
> TWs for self harm, he's at it again.

_No matter what you do_. 

The words echo around in his head, mocking him. Its a _lie_ , just like every other lie Wilbur has told. He curls up in the den, desperately trying to shut out the lies. The world doesn’t work like that. He has been bad, and now he has to be punished, but they _won’t punish him_ . He begged, he fucking _begged them_ but they still won’t. 

_Why_? 

Why can’t things just go back to the way they were? The way they’re supposed to be. 

_No matter what you do_. 

His lip curls up. 

_No matter what you do_. 

Fine. _Fine_ . They want him to _earn_ his punishment? He fucking _will._

*** 

They try calling him to the surface but Tommy ignores them. He plays with Henry and all of the others, even as hunger pains wrack his stomach. He mostly stays in the den but occasionally he wanders out to poke around the reef. 

He can see Wilbur and Dad lingering on the surface, watching him. He pretends that he doesn’t though, even when they splash at the water and try calling down to him. They send a bit of food down and Tommy isn’t stubborn enough to ignore that. He drags it into his den and scarfs down the fish. 

It isn’t the same sort of thing that Dream would give him, just plain raw fish. None of the fancy stuff that they’d been trying to feed him. His plan is already working, things are already closer to normal. 

He tells himself he’s glad for that. 

*** 

It isn’t working completely though, they still aren’t _doing_ anything. They’re just waiting. They call for him, but then when he doesn’t answer they say that its “alright if he doesn’t want to talk” and that they just “want to make sure he’s alright.” Tommy hisses to himself, flexing his dull claws in frustration. 

Fine. If this isn’t enough then he’ll do even more. When he is sure that the room is empty--an infrequent occurrence, Wilbur and Dad spend more time here than Dream ever did in his office--he pokes his head above water. Wilbur has left his phone on the arm of the couch. 

Tommy trembles, if he ever even _thought_ about doing this to Dream’s stuff… he doesn’t even want to imagine what Dream would do. He hesitates, halfway out of the water. Does he really want to do this? 

No. He has to, he has to know. They can’t just _not punish him_ for this. They will have to do something to him, and finally things will be normal again. 

He slips out of the water and takes Wilbur’s phone in hand, and then he throws it into the pool, diving after it. 

He tries not to pay attention to where it lands--his heart is racing already--but he sees it fall onto an empty patch of the floor. It will be easy to spot from above. He dives into the den. 

They’ll punish him for this, they have to. And that’s fine, that’s what he wants. This is what he wants. 

His hands are shaking. His fingers pluck uselessly at his scales but with his claws filed down he can’t pry them up. He turns to the fidget toy instead, just for something to do with his hands while he waits. 

It takes an eternity for Wilbur to return, but finally he hears the door open, footsteps, and then Wilbur’s voice, muffled through the water. He’s noticed its gone, he has to have noticed. 

The footsteps come to the edge of the water. Tommy dares to creep to the mouth of the den and he can see Wilbur standing there. He’s looking down into the water, he must see it, he has to see it. He has to know that the only way the phone could have gotten into the water is if Tommy took it there, and now he’ll get angry, and now he’ll punish Tommy. 

This is what he wants. 

This is what he wants. 

But it still terrifies him. 

Only Wilbur doesn’t shout, doesn’t stomp, doesn’t even splash his hand in the water. He only turns away. 

_Why_? Why can’t he just do what he’s supposed to? Why does he have to insist on this lie? 

Why can’t things just go back to the way they should be? 

He dives down and grabs Wilbur’s phone from the bottom. He’s stolen it, he’s ruined it, but Wilbur doesn’t care. He stares down at his reflection in the screen. His hair is floating around his head, tangled and matted, his eyes are wide and lost, his cheeks hollow. He scowls and turns the phone over. 

He’s never gotten to see one up close before. Dream didn’t let him, he’d hit Tommy the one time he’d tried to touch his phone when he was younger. 

Because Dream knew that he would ruin it, and Dream was right. He’s ruined this phone. 

But Wilbur doesn’t care. 

Tommy hisses lowly and rises to the surface. Wilbur is sitting on the couch, idly strumming the _fucking guitar_ like it doesn’t matter that Tommy just stole his phone. Just broke his phone. 

He looks up when Tommy surfaces, and he _fucking smiles_. “Hey,” he says, in that same, stupid soft and gentle tone. HIs voice sounds weird, tired and scratchy. He’s kind of slumped over. “I’m glad to see you up, are you hungry?” 

Tommy narrows his eyes at him and bares his teeth. Dream would beat him within an inch of his life for doing that but Wilbur only looks surprised and even a little bit fucking _happy_. A growl slips out of Tommy’s throat. 

Wilbur tilts his head, his eyes low, “I’m not angry with you for taking my phone,” he says, “I’d have let you see it if you wanted. I have some games on there you could play.” 

Tommy wants to scream. 

Instead he slaps the phone onto the edge of the pool and dives back down. 

He paces through the water, watching the surface for Wilbur’s shadow. Eventually he comes and Tommy just fucking _wishes_ that he’d get angry now that he’s got the phone back and its clear that its broken. He doesn’t, though. Of course he fucking doesn’t. 

Tommy curls up in his den. He’ll have to do something more, something _worse._

He twists the the fidget toy around, letting the rings fall against each other with a little rattle. Wilbur is playing the guitar again, Tommy spins the rings more aggressively. He wishes Wilbur would just _stop_ would just be _normal_. Why can’t any of them be normal? 

The fidget toy rattles harshly in the water and suddenly Tommy _hates_ the fucking sound, hates the entire thing. He tears it apart, scattering the rings through the water. But it isn’t _enough_. He’s so angry, he can’t contain it. He snarls, low and vicious and twists through the den, shredding apart his other toys. 

They’re all stupid, useless things. Dream had given them to him for being good, but he is bad. He is bad but Wilbur won’t punish him. He doesn’t _deserve_ the toys, he doesn’t deserve the reminder of Dream. 

He sweeps the scraps out of his den with his tail and curls up in the dark alone. He digs his dull claws into his arms, trying to hold himself together. Now the anger has spent itself and he suddenly regrets destroying everything. Those are the last things that he got from Dream, and now they’re broken. 

Dream would be so angry with him, so disappointed. 

His claws are too dull, they can’t pick at his scales anymore. He doesn’t even have the fidget toy to distract him. He has nothing, because he ruined it all. He ruins everything. Everything Dream ever tried to do for him he’d ruined. 

He wants to scream, he wants to howl this useless anger and pain out of his chest. But he can’t. He just _can’t_. 

He sticks his arm in his mouth muffling the sounds that want to escape. His fangs dig into his skin, into the seedling scales just starting to grow there. The taste of blood fills his mouth. 

Its comforting, in a way, the blood on his tongue, pain singing in his nerves. This is the way things are supposed to be. 

Above him, the water splashes. “Tommy?” Wilbur calls, voice muffled and distorted through the water. 

Of course its him. Of course he sounds worried, not angry. Tommy growls and curls tighter around himself, digging his fangs deeper into his skin. 

Wilbur splashes again. 

Tommy curls even tighter. 

Again. 

Fucking _fine_. 

He lets go of his arm, gasping at the sudden burst of pain. Blood floods the water. _Shit_. 

He wraps his hand around the wound, its not deep, his fangs aren’t that long, but it still hurts and its bleeding a lot more than a picked scale would have. He is careful to let only his head rise above the water. Wilbur is siting cross legged at the edge, his guitar set aside. 

“Hey,” he says _fucking again_. He interrupts himself with a coughing fit. “I uh...noticed that you broke your toys.” 

There are a few scraps of things on the edge of the pool. Tommy’s heart jumps, caught in a terrible swirl of apprehension and expectation. Maybe this is it. Maybe this is finally the last straw. 

“Its alright, they’re yours, you’re allowed to break them if you want.” 

Gods fucking damn it. 

“But I just thought I’d make sure that you know that if you ever want to replace them we can get you new ones. I know all of this is confusing for you, and scary, you can talk to me if you want. Or if there’s someone else you’d feel more comfortable with--” 

Tommy dives back into the water. He doesn’t want to fucking _hear it_. Dream would teach him a harsh lesson for leaving in the middle of him telling Tommy something, but of course Wilbur doesn’t do anything. He doesn’t even try to call Tommy back. 

He curls back into the den and sinks his fangs into his other arm. Its more painful than picking at his scales, but it is soothing in its own strange way. A tiny bit of familiarity, something to ground him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There were a couple people pointing out in the comments that they should really be explaining shit to Tommy and they are entirely correct. I just wanted to write angst lmao. 
> 
> I almost did an edit where they were better at their jobs but then I decided "no <3 I want Maximum Angst"  
> so here we are. 
> 
> This is definitely not a guide on how to help mer-children with their trauma. If you find a mer child being kept in terrible conditions, don't do this shit.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An anxious whine wants to rise out of his throat but Tommy holds it back. Where is Wilbur? Has he been taken from him too, now? Is this another person who owns him?   
> Was he too much trouble? Is this his punishment?   
> To be handed from person to person like an unwanted toy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you everyone for the wonderful comments! I love them all dearly I'm so glad you guys are enjoying the fic! 
> 
> warning for self harm, but hey! Techno comes back :D

The water splashes. Tommy pries his eyes open, his arms are sore, aching from the new wounds that dot them. 

“Hey, Tommy?” someone says up above, but it isn’t Wilbur. Tommy freezes. Even with the distortion of the water, he knows that’s not Wilbur’s voice, or Dad’s. “I brought you some breakfast,” the stranger says, “would you come up and talk to me real quick?” 

An anxious whine wants to rise out of his throat but Tommy holds it back. Where is Wilbur? Has he been taken from him too, now? Is this another person who owns him? 

Was he too much trouble? Is  _ this _ his punishment? 

To be handed from person to person like an unwanted toy?

He sinks his teeth into his arm again. 

“My name is Quackity,” the stranger says, “Wilbur and Phil are both sick so they asked me to check on you.” 

Phil? Who the hell is Phil? 

It doesn’t matter. They haven’t given him away, they haven’t abandoned him. They’re just sick. Dream was sick before and he didn’t come to the office for days. 

Tommy had been alone and hungry until Sapnap had come to check on him. Dream had come back grumbling about Sapnap yelling at him and after that every time Dream was sick or gone on business, Sapnap came to take care of him. 

Maybe Quackity is Wilbur’s Sapnap. 

“Is there anything you need?” Quackity asks, “something to do? You’ve got to be bored.” 

He is. Without his toys to play with, and the soreness of his arms he doesn’t even want to spend time with the fish, he has nothing to occupy his mind but his own thoughts. 

“If you come up here I can show you something really cool,” Quackity says. 

Tommy goes, not because of the cool thing, he doesn’t care. He’s just bored. And hungry. That’s all. 

He pokes his head warily above the surface, almost sure that this is some sort of trick. 

“Oh,” Quackity says. 

He’s got dark hair, and he’s wearing a hat like Wilbur’s. And like Dad, he’s got feathers around his face and through his hair, and wings on his back. His aren’t black though, they’re a yellow-y gold. 

“That actually worked. Cool. Hey dude. Uh...welcome to the surface.” He smiles, its kind of awkward, but it doesn’t have that pitying edge that Wilbur’s always seems to. 

Tommy doesn’t answer him though, he’s careful to keep his arms below the surface of the water. 

“Right,” Quackity says. “Well. Uh, I’ve got your breakfast here, if you want it?” 

He holds out a plate of the fancy food. Not the plain raw fish that Dream always fed him, and what Wilbur has been giving him these past few days since he’s refused to come up to eat. Tommy would rather have that than the weird fancy food. 

He makes no move towards the plate. Quackity sets it on the edge of the pool, “alright, well you don’t have to eat it now I guess. Did you want to see the cool thing?”

Tommy drifts a bit closer, he’s already up here, he may as well see. 

Quackity holds his phone out over the water. His arm shakes a little bit with how far he has to reach to get it near Tommy, and without thinking, Tommy reaches up to steady it. 

“Tommy,” Quackity says, too calm, “what happened to your arm there buddy?” 

Tommy freezes. His eyes flick from the clear wounds on his arm to Quackity’s face. He doesn’t look angry yet, just worried. “Have you been...biting yourself?” 

Tommy dives. 

He doesn’t even bother making sure he doesn’t splash, he just goes under. He hides in the darkest corner of the den again. He should be happy, he’s in trouble. This is what he wanted. This is what he wanted. 

Its good, they’ll punish him. 

Quackity is trying to call him back up but he can’t make himself go. He bites down on his arm again, muffling the chirps that want to come out of his mouth. 

Quackity tries to get him to come up for a long time, but eventually he gives up. Its quiet for a long moment, and then he hears the door open. And then the water shifts as something enters the pool with him. 

Something big. 

Some _ one _ big. 

The pink mer--Techno--has returned. 

Tommy can just barely see him around the corner of the chamber he’s in. He holds utterly still, hardly daring to breathe. For once, the stupid little chirps aren’t fighting to crawl out of his throat. 

He wanted punishment, he wanted to know what they would do. He wanted things to go back to the way they were supposed to be. He wanted this. 

But he didn’t want  _ this.  _

The scar on his chest  _ burns _ . 

Techno paces a careful circle around the edge of the pool. Hunting. He’s rumbling in a way that vibrates the water and makes Tommy’s muscles want to go slack. He doesn’t let them, doesn’t let the sound worm into his head, into his heart. 

This does not mean safety, this is danger. This is death. 

Techno hovers before the entrance of the den. He rumbles again but Tommy bites his arm to keep from chirping in reply. The pain helps ground him, helps keep the power of the rumble from overtaking his instincts. 

The scent of blood is in the water. Techno has to know he’s here, there’s nowhere else for him to be. Tommy curls in the back corner, keeping dead silent. 

He has to be dead silent, or he will be dead. 

Techno’s mouth opens a bit, tasting the blood in the water. Tommy can see his fangs, so much longer than his own. Made for tearing out throats. 

His claws are long and wicked sharp. 

Tommy knows how easily those claws can tear through skin and muscle. 

There is a frown on his face, not the blank aggression of the blue mer. His eyes lock onto Tommy, despite the darkness, the rumble stops. 

Tommy stares, waiting for the mer to move, to attack, to snarl and bare his teeth. Instead he croons, soft and sorrowful. Speech doesn’t carry well underwater, but Tommy can see his lips move around words.

He’s repeating that same old lie about not hurting, the one everyone here is so insistent on telling. He’s saying something about Tommy’s arms. Tommy pulls them closer, as if he could hide the wounds. 

Techno frowns and drifts a bit closer. 

His heart is pounding in his ears, it doesn’t make sense. Why can’t anything make sense here? There is a mer in the tank, this has to be a fight. But he’s not attacking. He’s--

He’s tilting his head back. 

He’s baring his throat, fins down, arms out to his sides. 

Surrender. 

Tommy lets go of his arm out of pure shock, staring open mouthed at Techno. It doesn’t make sense, it doesn’t  _ make sense _ . 

Techno looks at him and Tommy realizes that he’s crawled out of his corner without meaning to. He pulls back, arm raising to protect his throat. This has to be a trick. Its a trick. 

That’s all it can be. 

It doesn’t make sense as anything else. 

Techno rumbles again and slowly reaches out, his claws gleam in the light, but they’re not curled, ready so slash. They’re gently open, waiting for him to reach back. 

Tommy shakes his head, he isn’t going to fall for this. He isn’t going to do this. He isn’t. 

Techno croons coaxingly, and his hand reaches slowly into the dark of the den. He carefully cradles the still-bleeding wound on Tommy’s arm. Not even touching, just cupping his hand behind Tommy’s arm. 

Tommy dares to look up to his face, there is a worried pinch in his eyebrows. A frown on his lips. 

Why can’t anything just make  _ sense?  _

His skin touches Tommy’s and Tommy freezes, sure that somehow this will break the strange spell and now he will attack. He doesn’t, He only makes the  _ fucking rumble _ and this close, this caught off guard, Tommy can’t ignore his instincts. 

A fucking chirp escapes and he’s leaning  _ towards _ Techno. He’s going to fucking die, he’s going to get killed. All because he couldn’t keep his fucking instincts under control. Dream tried to teach him, tried to train him, tried to make him better. But in the end Tommy is no different than any other mer. 

And now he will die like them too. 

Techno gently tugs him out of the shadows, out of the den and into the open water. Tommy wants desperately to run, as far as he could run, but Techno is rumbling again. Pulling him close to his chest, cradling the back of Tommy’s head in one hand. 

The rumble rattles through him, shaking all of the tension out of his muscles. He slumps against Techno as they rise to the surface once again. 

Just like last time, there are humans there waiting for them. Tommy curls closer to Techno 

“Its alright kid,” he says, his voice is deep, not quite as deep as the rumble, but close. “We’ll get you fixed up.” 

“Leave me alone,” Tommy mutters, his voice hoarse. He pushes weakly away, but of course the mer doesn’t let him go. 

“Gotta get those wounds looked at first, I don’t make the rules.” 

Tommy growls, trying harder to climb out of the mer’s arms but he only tightens his grip and rumbles. Tommy slumps against him. “Stop fuckin’ doin’ that,” 

“You’re having a panic attack,” Techno says, “its keeping you calm.” 

Tommy whines high in his throat. He doesn’t fucking  _ feel _ calm. 

The mer rumbles again, and then hands are pulling him out of the water. 

“Hey Tommy,” Quackity says, “sorry to do this to you, but we’ve got to make sure you didn’t hurt yourself too bad.” 

“We’re not going to hurt you,” another voice says, and Tommy turns and realizes that its Niki there. Her arms are still wrapped from when he scratched her. She’s smiling at him reassuringly, like she has no reason to be angry with him. 

Why can’t they just hurt him? Why do they have to pretend that they’re not going to? What purpose does this serve? 

Tommy curls into himself, but he doesn’t protest when Niki takes his arm gently in her hands. There is no point in trying to understand them, or trying to resist them. 

*** 

“Something has to change,” Techno says, a growl laces his words, “we can’t keep doing this shit.” 

Phil sighs from the other end of the phone, “I know.” He says, “belive me I know. I’m not any more happy about this than you are. What do you want us to  _ do _ though, Techno? His entire world has been thrown into chaos, Everything and everyone he’s ever known is gone and we’re not acting at all like he’s been raised to expect. He’s not adjusting well, can you say you’d do any better?” 

“He’s not adjusting  _ at all _ ,” Techno snaps, his sail flares on his back. “He’s just sitting down there in that den hurting himself in new ways.” 

“Techno,” Sam cautions, but Techno can see that he’s just as agitated, “we’re working on it. We’ve blocked him from the den, for now. We’ll see if that’s a good choice or not in a few days.” 

Techno grumbles, “maybe he would be better off if he weren’t shut up in one room by himself.” Mer aren’t  _ meant _ to be alone. Even the males that hold territories in solitude can sing to their neighbors. Tommy is isolated, with only Phil and Wilbur. Not that Techno mistrusts them, but they are avian, not mer. 

“He has a panic attack every time he sees you,” Puffy says flatly, “sticking him into the big pool with the other kids isn’t going to help anyone, least of all Tommy. The best thing we can do is keep him as stable as we can until he starts to adjust. The fewer unpredictable variables we have, the better.” She turns, “speaking of, Sam. The police?” 

Sam’s fins twitch and he vocalizes frustration, “still want to talk to him. I can hold them off for however long we need though. They have enough to put Dream away and keep him there, they don’t  _ need _ to talk to Tommy.” 

“Send them to me if they keep bothering you,” Techno offers with a feral smile, baring his fangs. 

Sam laughs, but Techno knows that he is considering it. 

Good. 

He could use the opportunity to take out his aggression on someone, even if its just verbally tearing apart some poor police intern. Even though his claws itch to tear Dream apart in a far more literal fashion. 

It rubs him the wrong way on a deep, nearly instinctual level, to entrust the care of a mer child so thoroughly distressed to anyone else. He wasn’t a nursery guard for very long, all considered, but he still was one.

But Puffy is right, Tommy nearly has a damn heart attack every time he sees Techno. Trying to stick him into the middle of the pod won’t help any more than throwing a human into a riptide would.

He’s really starting to hate these meetings. They can’t do anything but sit around and talk about giving Tommy time and hoping that he’ll adjust. Techno snorts to himself, the kid isn’t adjusting, no amount of time will fix that. Something has to change. 

He just doesn’t know what. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Wilbur and Phil will be back tomorrow,” Quackity says that evening. There is a movie playing in the background and Tommy has to drag his attention away from it. “They caught a really bad strain of the flu, but they’re better now. They should be here first thing in the morning.” 
> 
> Tommy looks down at his arms and nods silently. The bite marks are still visible and very obvious on his arms, Niki has taken the bandages off, but that just makes the injuries look worse. Wilbur will see them, he will know what Tommy did. If he doesn’t already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second to last chapter guys, its come so fast! I've been working away at my next AU while I post this one but I got distracted by being on an Art Streak and those come seldom enough that I've embraced it instead of working on fic so it might be a little bit before the new AU is posted. There are however a bunch of sneak peeks on my tumblr (technobladesbasement, there is also bonus art there)if anyone is curious! 
> 
> I have a couple of prequels already made for Mer AU that I'll also be posting once this is done.

He isn’t sure if this counts as a punishment. They have locked him out of his den, there is a wooden board screwed into place over the entrance. Besides that, Niki has asked him not to go into the water too much. For his injuries. 

If it is meant to be a punishment, it in no way fits the crimes that he has committed. He has been nothing but bad. He attacked Niki, he broke Wilbur’s phone, he broke the one rule that Wilbur told him. He hurt himself. 

But instead of punishing him, they sent Techno to retrieve him, not attack him, and they treated his wounds. And now they have locked him out of his den and told him to stay out of the water. 

It could  _ almost _ be a punishment, but of course, they had fucking  _ apologied  _ for it. Wilbur and Phil--who’s name is not Dad, apparently--still aren’t back, but Quackity and Niki have been staying in his room in their place. 

He doesn’t  _ understand _ why they feel the need to linger. Their presence grates on him, like they’re just waiting for him to do something bad. But it doesn’t even matter if he does, because they won’t punish him for it. 

Unlike Wilbur and Dad--Phil, his name is Phil--they aren’t content to do their work. They insist on talking to him, explaining what their doing, asking him stupid questions. What is the point in asking him what he wants to eat? If he wants to watch a movie? Why let him watch movies at all? 

He pretends not to pay attention to them. He doesn’t trust these humans, they don’t act right. If they won’t hurt him for things that make sense, maybe they will hurt him for other reasons. Maybe they’re just waiting for him to slip up in some seemingly innocuous way and  _ then _ their anger will fall upon him. 

It would make sense, in the way that nothing here makes sense. 

Its hard to actually ignore the movies though, they’re loud and bright and terribly interesting. He’s never seen one before, its far better than sitting in the dark of his den thinking himself in circles. 

Niki keeps checking on his arms, and he tries his best to be perfectly cooperative, as if that will make up for what he’s done to her. She continues to be disturbingly undisturbed about him, as if it never happened at all. She smiles at him and warns him before she touches him and only does so in the gentlest of ways. 

The only evidence that it happened at all--aside from the still healing wounds on her forearms--is the way that she double checks before she does something that will hurt. She doesn’t do it before she gets some response from him, even a nod. And even then she only does one painful thing at a time and then backs off. 

It should make him feel guilty, but he can only feel relief. 

“Wilbur and Phil will be back tomorrow,” Quackity says that evening. There is a movie playing in the background and Tommy has to drag his attention away from it. “They caught a really bad strain of the flu, but they’re better now. They should be here first thing in the morning.” 

Tommy looks down at his arms and nods silently. The bite marks are still visible and very obvious on his arms, Niki has taken the bandages off, but that just makes the injuries look worse. Wilbur will see them, he will know what Tommy did. If he doesn’t already. 

The thought makes a shudder run down his spine and he has to fight to keep his fins still. The urge is there, to pick at his scales, or bite at his arms. But he is trying to be good--even if it doesn’t matter--so he fiddles with the edge of the cushion he’s sitting on instead. 

Wilbur will come back, and he will probably be just as confusing and weird as all the other humans. But Tommy doesn’t  _ belong _ to the other humans, he belongs to Wilbur, and he’s disobeyed Wilbur. 

“They’ve missed you,” Quackity says, ignorant to Tommy’s thoughts, “Will’s been making a fucking nuisance of himself calling every five minutes.” He laughs, but its fondly. The way Dream laughed about things that Sapnap and George did sometimes. 

Wilbur definitely knows that he hurt himself then. Tommy folds his arms close to his chest, as if that will hide the evidence. As if Wilbur will need evidence. Dream never did. 

Despite his fears, Tommy finds himself looking forward to Wilbur and Phil returning. They are in their own way, slightly less confusing than Niki and Quackity. He misses Wilbur playing the guitar, he misses their voices and their touch. He just misses  _ them _ , he’s probably made a nuisance of himself asking Quackity and Niki when they’re coming back all the time. 

Its strange to sleep out of the water. With Dream he spent nearly all of his time in the water, unless Dream was showing him to someone or spending time with him. Its kind of nice in its own way, different, from underwater. But less lonely. Even if Wilbur isn’t here. 

Quackity has made him a ‘blanket fort’ though. Its not nearly as solid as a den, but Tommy will admit that its much more comfortable. Made entirely out of soft blankets and plush cushions between the couch and the wall. 

When he and Niki leave for the night, Quackity leaves his laptop with the movie website pulled up. Tommy fully intends to ignore it all night and not touch it, but its quiet above the water, and so terribly lonely. He turns on a movie just for the sound, and then he turns on another one. He watches movies late into the night, but eventually he falls aslee p. 

***

“Tommy?” someone calls softly. He grumbles, its  _ far _ too early for this. “Are you still asleep?” 

He chatters at the voice, vocalizing complaint and  _ warm-content-leave-me-be _ . 

“Awww,” another voice cooes. “That was adorable.” 

Is that Wilbur? 

_ Ugh _ . No, its far,  _ far _ too early for Wilbur. He’s too confusing. “Go ‘way,” he grumbles. “Too early.” 

“Someone stayed up late having a movie marathon I think,” Phil whispers, Wilbur laughs softly. 

“Alright Tommy, we’ll let you sleep. We’ll be back with breakfast when you’re up.” 

The door shuts with a soft click behind them and Tommy curls into his nest with a contented purr. He is warm and wrapped in softness, its easy to fall back asleep. 

*** 

“Hey, Tommy? Its about lunch time, are you gonna sleep some more or are you hungry?” 

He grumbles and opens his eyes, the room is still dimly lit, but he can make out Wilbur crouching just beyond arm’s reach in front of him. Tommy blinks awake, silencing the welcoming trill that had started to come out of his throat.

“Wilbur,” he says properly, sitting up. His fins want to twitch self consciously. Its probably very obvious that he had stayed up past when he was supposed to watching movies. Which he isn’t sure he’s meant to be doing in the first place. Sapnap let him do a lot of stuff that Dream didn’t like. 

Wilbur is smiling though, soft and maybe just a little bit sad. “Morning sleepyhead,” he says softly, “you have a good time watching movies?” 

He still doesn’t seem angry, so Tommy nods hesitantly. Dream was always much angrier if he tried to hide that he’d done something wrong. Wilbur still doesn’t get angry though. 

“Should have brought you a player sooner huh?” Wilbur laughs softly, “I’m glad you found something you like.” 

He sounds like he means it, Tommy doesn’t know why he would be so happy about this. He’s smiling though, a real happy smile, not tinged with sadness. 

He just doesn’t understand Wilbur, he doesn’t think he ever will. 

“Are you hungry? Its about lunchtime, I was going to get myself something but I thought I’d check on you first. I can grab you something from the cafeteria if you like.” 

“Yes please,” Tommy says, his voice isn’t as hoarse as it once was. Quackity asked a lot of questions and he always seemed to want more than just a nod or a headshake. 

Wilbur’s smile grows a bit, “any preference? There’s salmon today or some nice cod.” 

Tommy shrugs, he doesn’t know _why_ all of them insist on asking him these things. 

“Come on,” Wilbur says, “every mer I know is super picky about salmon and cod, its not a big deal if you don’t but it seems to be quite the issue.” 

“I like salmon,” Tommy admits, because really cod is terrible. 

Wilbur beams at him, “great. I’ll get it for you then!” 

*** 

He feels a little shaky still, Tommy didn’t seem to pick up on it thankfully but Wilbur can still hear those sounds echoing in his ears. Tommy had spoken them so easily, so fluidly. For once they hadn’t been strangled and stunted. 

He’d  _ trilled _ at Wilbur before he’d caught himself. 

Its a massive fucking leap in progress. Tommy had been watching movies,curled up warm and safe in the blanket fort that Quackity made for him. He’d  _ talked _ even though he’d stopped making proper mer vocalizations, even though his fins had been unnaturally still. 

Quackity has made more progress with Tommy in a few days than Wilbur had even  _ started _ to make in double that time. 

Its not right to be jealous, if Tommy responds to Quackity better, then Wilbur should be happy to take a step back and let Quackity take over. It makes sense, in a way, Wilbur had been Tommy’s first contact in this new situation. Their meeting was extremely stressful, probably even traumatic in its own way. Quackity has none of those negative associations. 

He wants to help Tommy, with every inch of his fucking heart he wants to be the one to reach out to him, wants Tommy to learn to trust, to be happy, to be a mer. He wants to do that for the kid. But his desires aren’t what’s important here. 

Wilbur takes a deep breath, he’ll talk to Quackity and Sam after lunch.

He wants to help Tommy, and sometimes that means stepping away. As much as it makes his heart ache. 

He emerges from the quiet halls into the cacophony of the Atrium. The pool takes up a full three quarters of the massive area, and the kids are making full use of that space in some game or another. 

Tubbo leaps out of the water, some toy held close to his chest, Ranboo close on his fins, both of them vocalizing joy and friendly competition. The gaggle of younger kids are trying to keep up but they’re outclassed by the older boys, but that doesn’t stop them from calling wordless complaints. Techno is lounging at the edge of the water, half watching the kids and half keeping an eye on the humans around the area. 

Wilbur is pretty sure that Techno knows that none of the humans would hurt any of the kids--they’re the whole reason that they’re here, after all--but Techno is still at heart a wild mer. He will never trust humans the way that Sam and Puffy do. 

The inner circle are generally exempt from this, they know and love Techno despite his grumpiness. And despite his grumpiness, Techno loves them too. The rest of the staff are regarded with a healthy dose of suspicion. 

Will takes a small detour and walks over to Techno. Techno greeting trill is, naturally, deeper than Tommy’s. He props himself up as Wilbur sits next to him to press their cheeks together. 

Wilbur leans into the contact for a moment and then Techno returns to his relaxed pose. “Its good to see you again, feeling better?” 

Wilbur nods, “seem to be. How have the kids been?” 

“Loud, energetic, the usual. How’s Tommy?” 

Wilbur holds back a sigh, “good, I think. Apparently he stayed up watching movies last night. Quackity left him his laptop.” 

“At least he didn’t drag it into the water, I bet that’s a lot less waterproof than your phone.” 

Wilbur snorts, “yeah. He seems like he’s doing...really well. Better than I’ve seen him. He nearly trilled at me.” 

Techno makes a click in the back of his throat, “that’s surprising.” 

“He responds well to Quackity, I guess.” Wilbur says, trying not to let any bitterness into his tone. 

Techno looks at him with another questioning click, apparently he hadn’t done a good job of it. 

“Its nothing,” Wilbur says, and Techno makes a dubious sound but doesn’t push. 

“Wilburrrr,” Tubbo trills his name, popping out of the water in front of them. “You were gone  _ forever _ , I missed you.” he hauls himself up to press his wet cheek against Wilbur’s. 

“I missed you too,” Wilbur laughs. 

“Did you bring me anything?” 

“No, I was sick, not on vacation.” 

Tubbo slips back into the water with a sigh, “that’s lame.” 

“Ranboo is stealing your ball,” Techno informs him, and Tubbo whips around with an offended squawk, fins flaring in mock aggression. 

Ranboo chirps fearfully and dives with Tubbo after him. 

Tommy should be here, playing with them, laughing loud and free. Maybe he will, one day, if Quackity keeps him on this path to recovery. “I should go get lunch,” Wilbur says, “see you later.” 

“He asked for you,” Techno says as he stands, “every day he asked about you and Phil.” Wilbur pauses, crouched awkwardly, halfway back to his feet. “He missed you guys too.” 

Wilbur nods and gets up. He has salmon to fetch. 

Purpled is on kitchen duty today it seems, “hey,” Wilbur greets him casually. He’s not too familiar with the kid, his brother is a police officer or something. He’s been called out to a few stranded mers and that’s how he had the connections to get Purpled into the intern program. 

Purpled nods briskly, “getting something for Tommy?” 

“Yeah, salmon please.” 

“Gotcha.” 

He tries not to think too hard on Techno’s words as he goes back to Tommy’s room. Of course he wouldn’t  _ completely _ leave Tommy if--when?--Quackity became his primary caretaker. He’d still be  _ around _ . 

Tommy deserves the chance to have someone he responds well to watching over him. Even if that’s not Wilbur. But as long as Tommy wants him around, he will be. 

He knocks softly on the door as he opens it, “lunch,” he announces, doing a much better job of keeping his thoughts out of his tone this time. Tommy is at the edge of the water, probably checking on his fish. He hovers over them still, as if they were his pod. 

They are, really. They’re all he had before he came here, those fish and Dream. Tommy doesn’t trill to him again, but he doesn’t flinch or tense either.The blanket fort is still assembled and Quackity’s laptop is carefully shut and set aside, like Tommy was trying to pretend that he’d never touched it. 

Wilbur sets the plate down on the low table, foregoing a seat on the couch in favor of joining Tommy on the floor. Other mer are fine with the furniture, used to it, but Tommy tends not to prefer it. 

Probably not used to it after living most of his life in the water. Techno doesn’t care for furniture either. 

He smiles at Tommy as he makes it over, “salmon, just like you asked.” 

“...Thank you.” 

Wilbur unwraps his sandwich and pulls Quackity’s laptop open, “you want to watch something while we eat?” 

Tommy looks away and shrugs, but Wilbur can see him practically leaning towards the laptop. Who knew the kid would be a movie fan. He pulls up something laid back enough, Quackity has it in children’s mode but some movies still get intense and Tommy doesn’t need quite that level at this point. 

“This one was my favorite when I was a kid,” Wilbur tells Tommy as the opening credits begin to play. 

Tommy eats quickly as always, eyes glued to the screen. As the movie plays on, he scoots closer and closer, until he is hovering at Wilbur’s side. 

Remembering how quickly Tommy had become desperately touch starved--terrifyingly fast even for a mer--when he had gone catatonic, Wilbur takes a small risk and carefully scoots a little closer to him, so that his knee is touching Tommy’s arm. 

Tommy doesn’t seem to notice, but steadily, he leans against Wilbur’s side. Maybe he won’t stay as Tommy’s primary caretaker, but Wilbur will be happy as long as this kid gets to watch his fill of movies and learns to laugh the way Tubbo and Ranboo do. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALSO!!! MollyPollyKinz has written a really cool fic inspired by this one! That was a super amazing email to wake up to this morning, be sure to check it out! 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He doesn’t even know why he’s up this early.   
> Only then he hears it, footsteps coming down the hall, and voices accompanying them. Not Wilbur and Phil, strangers.   
> He curls tighter in his nest. Its not uncommon for other people to go by, but not this early, not this loudly.   
> Its fine, they’re going to walk past the room and he can put on his movie and go to sleep. Its fine.   
> They stop at his door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are guys, final fucking chapter can u believe? I'm so glad to have been able to share this fic with you guys and I'm so super glad that you guys have enjoyed it so much! 
> 
> Be sure to sub to the series because I've got a couple prequel fics that I'm uploading over the next couple days. 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy the chapter!

He doesn’t think Wilbur noticed how close they ended up sitting to each other. Dream was always so careful about it, never getting to close if Tommy hadn’t been good, but Wilbur didn’t seem to care that Tommy was practically laying his head in his lap.Of course he’d had to move once the movie ended, but it had been good while it lasted. 

They watch a lot of movies together, and Wilbur also starts reading him books. Tommy wishes that he could read on his own sometimes, but hearing Wilbur read the stories is nice. Phil hangs around too, Tommy likes to listen to him and Wilbur talk while he falls asleep, their voices a low background murmur. 

They haven’t come back this morning, he’s up early, he thinks. There isn’t really a window here so he can’t tell, but the clock on the laptop says its five AM. Tommy pulls up the movie website, intending to put on Wilbur’s favorite movie and tying to fall back asleep. 

He doesn’t even know why he’s up this early. 

Only then he hears it, footsteps coming down the hall, and voices accompanying them. Not Wilbur and Phil, strangers. 

He curls tighter in his nest. Its not  _ uncommon _ for other people to go by, but not this early, not this loudly. 

Its fine, they’re going to walk past the room and he can put on his movie and go to sleep. Its fine. 

They stop at his door. 

The latch clicks and a sliver of light falls in, along with the silhouette of a man. “Hello?” avoice asks, its familiar. He knows them, he thinks. “Tommy, right? I’m Punz. Sorry for bursting in on you so early, but I wanted to talk to you.” 

There is another person in the doorway, smaller. 

“Thanks for the tour,” Punz says, “get out of here, I don’t want to get you in trouble.” 

The smaller figure nods and leaves, and Tommy is alone with Punz. 

He hunches in on himself, unsure. The pool is all the way across the room, Punz could intercept him easily if he tries to go for it. 

“You might not remember me,,” Punz says, “but I’m a friend of Dream’s. He sent me to check on you.” 

Tommy’s heart freezes in his chest. “Dream?” 

Punz nods, “he sent me. Now come out here.” 

Every instinct screams at him to stay still, stay hidden, don’t expose himself. But he is more than his instincts, Dream sent Punz. He crawls out of his fort.

“Good.” Punz says, looming over him. “Dream wanted to make sure you were still being good. You are, aren’t you Tommy? You won’t tell them anything.” There is a thread of menace in Punz’ tone. Tommy flinches back, wishing that his pillow fort was made from something more solid. 

His breath is coming fast and shallow, his heart is pounding. Dream sent Punz. To check on him, to make sure he’s being good. He nods frantically, “I didn’t--I won’t. I--” 

Punz sits on the couch facing him, “that’s good. Dream knows you’re doing your best, he knows you wouldn’t disobey him, he knows you miss him. He’s going to come back soon, he’ll get you out of here. We both know you don’t like it here. Dream’s going to rescue you, but you have to keep quiet, right? Keep quiet and be good, and everything can go back to the way that it was.” 

The way that it was. When it was just him and Dream, when all of the rules made sense, when he was punished for breaking them swiftly and harshly. 

“But,” Punz says, “if you aren’t good, you know what will happen.” He leans forward, in the dim light, his eyes seem to glint with bloody promise, “I got in here without anyone stopping me, Tommy,” he says, “if you talk, I’ll be coming back, and you won’t like it when I do. Am I understood?” 

Tommy nods, pressing himself back against the wall, his head tilts, baring his throat. He can be good. He will be good. And Dream will come back, and he won’t belong to Wilbur anymore, and things will go back to the way they were before. 

Just like before. 

He will be Dream’s again, isn’t that what he wants? 

Things will make sense, the rules will be back. It will be just him and Dream. 

Punz reaches out and Tommy can’t smother the little whine that climbs out of his throat. Punz doesn’t hurt him though, he only runs his hand through Tommy’s hair. His hand is rougher than Wilbur’s, more calloused, larger.

Punz’s fingers thread through his hair, gripping it tightly and forcing Tommy to look up at him. “Don’t make me come back here,” he says darkly. “Keep your mouth shut and Dream will come back for you, that’s what you want, right?” 

Tommy tries to nod, a chirp fights its way out of his mouth. 

“Like a  _ person _ ,” Punz growls.

“Yes,” Tommy gasps, “I want that. I’ll be good. I’ll be good. I promise.” 

Punz cradles his cheek gently, something feels awful and wrong about it. Tommy wants to snarl, suddenly, and snap his fangs into Punz’s skin. He makes himself hold utterly still. “Good. Just keep that promise and Dream will come for you.” 

He leaves as abruptly as he came, footsteps retreating down the hallway in the dark.

Tommy stays, plastered to the wall, chest heaving, heart racing, hands shaking. 

Dream is going to come for him, Dream is coming back. He’ll belong to Dream again, not Wilbur. Its what he wanted. Its what he  _ wants _ . For things to go back to normal, for the rules to make sense.

So why does it make him so scared? 

If Dream comes back, if he takes Tommy away, he’ll never see Wilbur again, or Phil, or Quackity, or Niki. He’ll probably even not get to see Henry or any of the others again. There’s no way Dream would take them with him. 

If Dream comes back, Tommy will go back to the tank, with the too small den, Quackity will never make him another pillow fort, he’ll never watch movies with Wilbur again, Niki won’t come to check on him. 

Things will go back to the way they were before. 

He has wanted nothing but that for weeks. 

But he doesn’t now. 

Fuck. He doesn’t want things to go back to normal. He doesn’t want to leave Wilbur and the others. He doesn’t want to go back to the tank and the punishments and the displays. 

He wants to stay here. 

A low keen breaks out of his chest, he doesn’t know what to  _ do _ . He doesn’t want to go back, he  _ doesn’t _ . He has to find Wilbur. Wilbur will know what to do. 

Shaking, Tommy pries himself away from the wall, ignoring the chirps that want to crawl out of his throat. He just has to find Wilbur. 

The door is unlocked. The handle twists easily under his hand and the hinges open silently. The hallway is dark and empty. His heart pounds as he stares out at it. He’s  _ never _ done anything like this. Never even  _ considered it _ . 

The things Dream would do to him for even thinking about leaving,  _ escaping _ . A shudder runs down his spine. 

But Dream isn’t here. Yet. He still has time, he just has to find Wilbur. 

Tommy isn’t sure what Wilbur could or would do, but he knows that he has to find him. Wilbur promised that he would keep him safe, the very first time they met he’d  _ promised _ . 

The door is raised up from the hallway on a short flight of stairs, and under those stairs, running along the side of the hall, there is a corridor of water. Tommy slips into it and takes off. Wilbur has to be here somewhere. He just has to find him. 

*** 

The waterways are a maze, he has no idea where he is or where he’s going. He only knows that Wilbur isn’t here. He swims on. The hallways are still empty and dark, they all look identical, he doesn’t think he could even find his way back if he tried. 

Where is Wilbur? 

The waterways cross and converge, he has no idea which ones to take, which one will bring him to Wilbur, to anything but another empty hallway. He should have stayed in his room. Wilbur would have come eventually, right? 

He turns down another waterway, only this one doesn’t bring him to another hall, it brings him to a massive room. The waterway opens into a massive pool. Ten times, a hundred times the size of his tank. 

Tommy freezes he’s never seen this much  _ space _ , this much water. Its mesmerizing, its  _ terrifying.  _ Its so  _ open _ , so empty. There are shapes in the water, tubes and towers and a dozen other things. Toys lay abandoned among them. 

In the middle of it all, there is a pile of mer. Tommy hardly dares to breathe, staring at them all. There must be two dozen of them, all scaled in dull colors, all of them small, smaller than him. 

Children. 

Mer children, sleeping curled up together. Under the pile, there are the bright colors of Techno. 

His heart  _ aches  _ with every beat, he wants to join the pile, wants to bury himself among them. Wants to hear voices trilling and calling, wants to feel scales brushing against his. He wants to play with them among the tubes and toys. 

He drifts closer. Its like a dream, like a wish he didn’t know he had coming true. One of the kids grumbles in their sleep and turns, snuggling closer to someone else’s side. There is a space, just big enough to wedge himself into. 

No. 

He can’t. 

Tommy stops, muffling a whine in his throat. He can’t, he can’t. He turns and flings himself back into the waterways. He swims, taking turns blindly, desperately. He doesn’t even see what he runs into before he’s bouncing off of it. 

He flares his fins, heart pounding as he looks up. 

It isn’t a wall. 

Its another mer. 

A fully grown male, with green scales, staring down at him with wide eyes, fins flared. Tommy stares back, horrified. 

He’s out of his room, Wilbur is nowhere to be found, and now  _ this.  _

He has to run, but he  _ can’t _ . He can’t move. He can only stare, frozen in horror at the mer. His scar pulses with phantom pain. 

The mer holds up his hands, like he’s surrendering, but he can’t be. Tommy flinches, but the mer still doesn’t strike. Instead he rumbles. It softer than Techno’s, and not as low, but not as high as when Wilbur does it. 

It still makes his instincts reach out to the mer, to the promise of protection. The green mer carefully reaches out and guides him to the surface. “Tommy? What are you doing out here?” 

“I--” He doesn’t know what to say, how to answer, how to react. 

“Its alright,” the green mer says, “I’m Sam, I’m not going to hurt you, I just didn’t expect to see you out here. Usually I’m the only one up at this hour.” 

He’s talking like none of this is unusual. Like they’re just chatting. Tommy stares mutely. 

“Did you need something?” Sam asks, “I don’t think Wilbur is in yet, but I’d be happy to help you.” 

_ Wilbur _ . “I need Wilbur,” he says, without really meaning to, and then the words are spilling out of him, impossible to stop. “Please, where is he? I need--He--he promised. I need him.  _ Please _ .” He drifts backwards, away from Sam. 

Where is Wilbur? Where is  _ anyone _ ? Dream is going to  _ come for him _ . Dream is going to take him back, Punz said so. 

“Easy, Tommy,” Sam says gently, “I’ll call Wilbur, alright? Everything’s okay.” 

Tommy shakes his head, because its  _ not _ , nothing is okay. He doesn’t know where he is, he doesn’t know what to do, he doesn’t know anything. Nothing makes sense anymore. 

Sam rumbles again and the tension drains out of Tommy’s muscles. He whines softly. 

“I’m know,” Sam says, “I’m sorry, I don’t want you to get lost though. I’ll call Wilbur, alright? I’ll call him right now, see?” 

From a bag at his waist he pulls out a phone and Tommy can see the screen light up as he taps at it. A picture of Wilbur takes over the screen, and the phone rings. 

Once. Tommy stares at it, barely daring to hope. 

Twice. Please let him pick up, please please, please,  _ please _ . 

Three times. A choked keen tries to fight its way out of his throat, Sam rumbles again and carefully tugs Tommy closer, so that he’s leaning against his chest. 

On the fourth ring, there is a click. 

“...’lo?” Wilbur asks, voice thick with sleep. 

Tommy makes a sound that even he can’t identify, something desperate and pleading. 

“Tommy?” Wilbur suddenly sounds much more awake. 

Sam rumbles again, pressing Tommy closer to himself, “Hey Will,” he says, “I’ve got Tommy here with me. He was looking for you.” 

“Wilbur,” Tommy manages, his voice sounds terrible, hoarse and hopeless. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Wilbur says gently, Tommy can hear him moving on the other end of the line, “I’m here, I’m right here Tommy, I’ll be there in just a few minutes. Can you tell me what’s wrong bud?” 

Tommy opens his mouth but he can’t make the words come out, a whine manages to do it, but he can’t tell him about Punz, about the promise that he’d made. About Dream coming back for him. How he doesn’t  _ want  _ to go back. 

Over the speakers, Tommy can hear a door close, keys jingling. 

“I’m on my way, okay Toms? I’m coming, just stay with Sam, he won’t hurt you, he’s a nice guy. He’s the one who runs the place, did you know that?”

Tommy glances up at the mer. The words make no sense. Why,  _ how _ , could a mer run this place? Sam smiles down at him, “I do,” he confirms. “Wilbur’s been around for a lot of it though. He probably first came here when he was around your age, right Will?” 

Tommy can hear a car starting now, the sing of tires on the road. 

“Maybe a bit older,” Wilbur says, “but around that age, yeah.” 

“How about we go to my office,” Sam says, “we can wait for Will there, alright?” 

Tommy stiffens, but he nods. Sam gently tugs him through the waterways, somehow navigating them perfectly despite how identical they were. All the while, he talks with Wilbur about unimportant things, old stories, old jokes. 

Finally, Sam opens a door and ushers Tommy into what must be his office. Like Tommy’s room, there is an underwater and above water portion, all of the above water space is full of machines and wires. Tommy barely takes it in, Sam has let him hold the phone and he’s curled around it, listening to Wibur’s voice. 

His hands are trembling, his breath is shaky, but as long as he can hear Wilbur he can cling to that. Wlibur will keep him safe, he promised. The engine stops, “I’m outside now Tommy,” Wilbur says, “I’m coming in. I’ll be there in just a minute. Just hold on for me, okay?” 

He can hear Wilbur’s footsteps through the phone, faintly, but they’re there. Then he can hear them behind him. Tommy turns to the door just as Wilbur opens it. He’s not wearing his coat, or his hat, or real clothes. He’s got two different shoes on and a wild, worried look in his eyes.

“Tommy,” he says when his eyes fall onto him.

“Wilbur,” Tommy keens, and he reaches out to him. 

Wilbur crosses the room without hesitation, kneeling and scooping Tommy into his arms. Their cheeks press together and unlike when Punz touched him, there is no fear, no anger at the touch. There is only relief. 

“I’m here,” Wilbur says, “I’ve got you. Its alright.” 

Tommy clings to him, whining low and desperate in the back of his throat. 

“Shhh, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I’ve got you. Just breathe Tommy, just breathe for me.” 

Tommy tucks his head under Wilbur’s chin and breathes. 

“Did you have a bad dream?” Wilbur asks an eternity later. Tommy shakes his head. “What happened? You can tell me, I’ll fix it, I promise.” 

He promises. 

And Tommy tells him. Wilbur and Sam listen in silence, Wilbur tenses when Tommy tells him about Punz’s threat, about Dream coming back for him. His voice peters out into a quiet rasp and then he falls silent entirely. 

“Okay,” Wilbur says, “alright. You did  _ so good _ telling me Tommy. Thank you for trusting me with that. We’re going to handle this, okay? Dream is  _ not _ coming back,  _ ever _ . Neither is Punz, or anyone else connected to Dream. We won’t let it happen,  _ I _ won’t let it happen. I promise you he will  _ never  _ see you again. You’re not going back to him. You’re staying here.” 

And Tommy believes him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, Punz is gonna get in a police chase and drive off a bridge and die. Dream will never get out of prison because he is also going to die in an ignoble way and Tommy gets to live happy and safe forever. In the words of Wilbur Soot: Yo, Suck it Green Boy. 
> 
> ALSO! someone else *also* posted a mer Tommy fic inspired by this one (I straight up nearly cried fam, I'm so glad you guys liked this) should be liked below so def be sure to check it out.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Past the Shore](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29908137) by [awoof_0](https://archiveofourown.org/users/awoof_0/pseuds/awoof_0)
  * [Lost at Sea *DSMP MER AU*](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29983059) by [SilverReedzo9](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverReedzo9/pseuds/SilverReedzo9)




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